


Shoshana

by wheel_pen



Series: Shoshana [1]
Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M, Naughtiness, Shoshana (wheel_pen), Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-15
Updated: 2013-05-23
Packaged: 2017-12-11 21:59:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 20
Words: 120,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/803718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheel_pen/pseuds/wheel_pen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Damon and Stefan need all the help they can get to fight Katherine, Pearl, and their numerous vampire allies. There’s a woman from their past whose special abilities could make them more powerful, but she’s not exactly happy to see them again. Damon fetches her anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Shoshana, my original character, has a long and complicated history with Damon and Stefan. She has special abilities that could give them an edge over Katherine.
> 
> 2\. This series is set about halfway through the first season of the TV show. Facts revealed later on the show might not make it into this series.
> 
> 3\. Underage warning: This series may contain human or human-like teenagers, in high school, in sexual situations.
> 
> 4\. The bad words are censored. That’s just how I do things.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this AU. I own nothing and appreciate being able to play in this universe.

 

 

_I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,_   
_or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off._   
_I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,_   
_in secret, between the shadow and the soul._

_I love you as the plant that never blooms_   
_but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;_   
_thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,_   
_risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body._

_I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where._   
_I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;_   
_so I love you because I know no other way_

_than this: where I does not exist, nor you,  
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,  
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep._

_\--Pablo Neruda, Sonnet XVII_

 

“You and me against two dozen vampires, not to mention Pearl and Katherine?” Damon summarized with dark derision. “Which part of ‘outmatched’ do you not understand? The ‘out’ or the ‘matched’?”

Stefan clenched his jaw and willed himself to have patience. Damon could get a little overdramatic sometimes, especially when he was stressed and, frankly, more than a little scared, though he’d never admit to that. The situation didn’t really have to be that bad, Stefan was sure of it.

“I don’t think we should think of it as us versus them,” he suggested reasonably, and both Elena and Damon stared at him for a second, thinking he meant they should join forces with the tomb vampires. “I _mean_ , maybe we can convince them to live here peacefully, or move on without trouble.”

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen,” Damon responded, his tone suggesting his brother was severely reality-challenged.

“Look, maybe if I talked to Pearl—“

“If _you_ talked to her?” Damon sputtered indignantly. “If _you_ —“

“What about Bonnie and Mr. Saltzman?” Elena interrupted, seeing Damon start to spiral down on the previous topic. “They could help us. I mean, if we needed to fight,” she amended apologetically to Stefan. She hated to agree with Damon on anything, but from what she’d seen, the other vampires didn’t seem like the reasonable type.

“Wow, what a brilliant suggestion,” Damon replied to her, so flatly that she knew something nasty was coming. “That raises our odds of survival to—oh, wait. Still zero!” he proclaimed.

Elena gave him a dark look and decided she didn’t agree with him anymore. “I’ll talk to Pearl tomorrow,” Stefan proposed, and Elena clutched his arm instinctively—she hadn’t forgotten what had happened to Stefan the _last_ time he’d been in her house.

“You mean you’ll talk to Katherine,” Damon spat, bitterness burning through him. “You know she’s the one running the show now.” He stepped close to Stefan and hissed in a low voice, “I wonder what she’ll want in exchange for _anything_ you suggest.” The pressure of Elena’s grip on Stefan’s arm increased.

Stefan took a moment to attend to her, turning away from Damon. “There’s nothing to worry about,” he tried to assure her with a little smile. “Katherine and I are through—“

“There’s _everything_ to worry about, you moron!” Damon raged, venting his frustration on a nearby coffee table. Elena winced and ducked behind Stefan as it flipped through the air and crashed to the floor. “There’s more of them, and they’re stronger, and they’re always gonna be—especially if you keep eating g-----n bunnies instead of—“ He stopped his rant suddenly, his back to the others.

“Damon?” Stefan asked warily.

“Well,” he said slowly, “there’s always…” He turned back around, his expression distant, and idly rubbed his left hand.

Understanding, followed by horror, crystallized in Stefan’s mind. “No,” he said sharply.

“What’s he talking about?” Elena asked worriedly. The look on Stefan’s face indicated it couldn’t be anything good.

“G-d, I should’ve thought—“ Damon muttered, more to himself.

“Damon, no,” Stefan stated, trying to sound authoritative and not desperate. “It’s not a good idea.”

Finally Damon looked at him. “It’s a _brilliant_ idea,” he sneered. “It’s the only thing that will make us stronger.”

“She’s not—she’s not a _thing_ , Damon,” Stefan tried to tell his brother. “You can’t hurt her like that. Not again. Please, don’t.” He had a feeling his words were falling on deaf ears, though—now that she’d entered Damon’s mind, the plan was practically set.

“Who’s ‘she’?” Elena wanted to know, completely confused.

“Shoshana,” Damon replied distractedly, which didn’t help Elena at all. “It’s absolutely perfect,” he decided, clearly impressed with himself.

“If you don’t care about making an innocent girl miserable,” Stefan tried.

“And I don’t,” Damon told him coldly. “She’s hardly innocent,” he added.

“Shoshana?” Elena repeated faintly. She hated being left out of their conversations.

“You’ll love her,” Damon decided brightly. “G-d, she’ll have a whole group of little friends waiting for her,” he went on. “And this house—“ He looked around suddenly, as though seeing his surroundings for the first time. “She’s always liked this house and the town.”

“Is Shoshana a vampire?” Elena guessed.

“Not exactly,” both brothers replied at the same time.

“Damon, please,” Stefan tried one more time. He took his brother’s arm and made eye contact with him. “Don’t bring Shoshana into this. We’ll find another way. It never ends well, for either of you.”

Damon’s eyes flashed as though Stefan had reminded him of something painful, but then the cocky mask returned and he stepped away from him, turning slowly in place with his arms outstretched. “I’m feeling… northwest,” he announced with a wicked grin. “I’ll be gone a few days,” he added, heading for the door. “Don’t do anything stupid in my absence.” With that he vanished.

“What’s going on?” Elena asked, not unreasonably. “Who’s Shoshana?”

Stefan sat down on the couch, feeling suddenly tired, which was alarming as he didn’t really need to sleep. Dealing with Katherine after all these years had been more difficult than he’d imagined, than _he_ wanted to admit to anyone—and then to add Shoshana on top of that… Part of him wasn’t completely sure he could handle it all.

“Stefan?” He opened his eyes, not realizing he’d shut them, to see Elena kneeling before him, her expression worried. He tried to smile again and took her hands, squeezing them gently. But Elena wasn’t one to be swayed by easy gestures—she was made of tougher stuff, and she wanted to share in Stefan’s troubles, however much he would rather shield her from them.

He hadn’t forgotten her questions. “Shoshana isn’t a vampire,” he explained, trying to organize it in his mind. “But she doesn’t age, and she heals quickly. And the reason Damon wants to involve her is because when vampires drink her blood, they become very powerful.” Elena nodded, not necessarily in complete understanding. “Some people call her a _source_ ,” he went on. “They’re very rare and vampires— _some_ vampires spend centuries looking for one. Her blood can be drained to the point that would be fatal in ordinary humans, and the next day she’ll be fine and ready to do it again.” That was the general idea, anyway, an optimistic view that left a lot of unsavory details out. But he didn’t want to heap everything on Elena all at once.

She was frowning already. “I see why Damon would want to use her for himself,” she agreed, “but why would he risk bringing her near the other vampires? Couldn’t her blood make them powerful, too?”

Stefan shook his head patiently. “No one can bite her without her permission,” he clarified. “In fact, her blood will poison vampires who bite her against her will.” He took a deep breath. “Except Damon. He can drink her blood whether she wants him to or not.”

“Why?” Elena asked.

“Because Damon was the one who originally killed her.” Her eyes widened in alarm. “It was in the early 1900’s, we were in Vienna,” he explained quickly, wanting to get the basics out, “and he pulled this girl off the street and drank her dry.” Elena couldn’t help but grimace at his words. “And then to his surprise, he felt incredibly powerful—and she popped back up the next day, alive and healthier than ever. That was the start,” Stefan added darkly. He looked intently into Elena’s eyes. “There’s… some other things about her,” he said vaguely. “Damon doesn’t always treat her very well. He doesn’t have to. He can bite her whenever he wants, and he likes to toy with her. They kind of drive each other crazy,” was all he could think to say.

Elena took a deep breath and nodded, combining what he’d said with Damon’s earlier words. “Is she… nice?” she asked inadequately.

Stefan knew what she meant. “Yes, she is,” he assured her. Not someone who deserved to be tormented by Damon in any way.

“Well, if she’s staying here maybe we should make a room for her,” she suggested.

The idea seemed momentarily woefully inadequate compared to what the girl would experience at Damon’s hands. But Stefan saw the fierce determination in Elena’s eyes and realized the gesture was actually deeply considerate, even protective, in defiance of whatever arrangement Damon might have in mind.

He smiled slowly. “Yes, I think we should,” he agreed.

 

Vancouver. It didn’t take him too long to get there, though long flights always left him windblown with bugs in his hair. She wasn’t going anywhere, so he cleaned up at a cheap motel and grabbed a bite to eat. Then he started wandering the city aimlessly, turning left or right based on miniscule, almost subconscious tugging. On broad scales his ability to locate her worked well, but the closer he got, the fuzzier the sense became, like a compass losing its usefulness as it approached the North Pole. No matter, though. He knew the most likely places for her to be found any city, so he would spot her soon enough. It was just a matter of time.

Although time was something of a premium right now, because there was only so long Stefan could go without doing something noble that jeopardized his survival.

Damon ended up near a high school. Perfect if he wanted a snack later, but also a probable spot to find his quarry, in early afternoon on a weekday. Like Stefan her clock had been stopped at an age once considered to be adult, if on the young side—which was now called ‘young adult’ in a patronizing way, but really meant an old child. And her options—on her own—were even more limited than Stefan’s, because she needed human food. Which these days generally required money. He settled into a secluded spot to wait and watch, not knowing if this was even the right school—but something told him it was.

His trip to Vancouver had been spent plotting ways to attack Katherine and Pearl once he was stronger, and ways to persuade Stefan to man up as well—did he seriously think he was going to do anyone any good on a diet of _animals_? Now he found himself, for the first time, contemplating what he was going to say to Shoshana when he saw her. It didn’t have to be bad for her. It wasn’t always. She could have friends, she could do things, she could even go to school or get a job if she wanted to, though Damon had no idea why anyone would want to do _that_. And this was a good cause—he was trying to fight someone who was worse than him, trying to protect his home, his town. That seemed like a good line to take, he decided. Obviously any clear-eyed individual would be able to spot several holes in that claim, but Shoshana might miss them in the rush of emotion. And once he got her back to Mystic Falls he could continue persuading her—it’d be easier once she saw everything with her own eyes. He even had friends now! Okay, they were either Stefan’s friends who barely tolerated him, or people he’d created an elaborate false persona for, but still—that was different from the past. And none of his friends would want to eat her, which she would probably consider a plus.

Two girls walked by without seeing him, laughing and giggling. School must be getting out, he decided, and he sharpened his gaze. She would look the same, he predicted—of course fundamentally she would look the same, but she would probably still have the same haircut and color, similar clothes. Shoshana didn’t really embrace change. Maybe he could take her shopping before they left town—not that he wanted to fly while carrying her _and_ a bunch of luggage, but she could get a _few_ new things. She could order the rest from Amazon when they got home.

Home. Damon liked the sound of that. He wasn’t terribly sentimental and he couldn’t deny the practical considerations of settling in Mystic Falls permanently; but he thought it was worth a try, and that was different from the past, too. Stefan had Elena, he would have Shoshana, maybe down the line they could switch on occasion—not that he was insisting on this, he was just saying he was open to it—and at the moment this struck him as being something pleasant, something he would appreciate. Not that he was going all soft and squishy like Stefan, but… Damon really felt like he’d changed in the last few months. Okay, most people would have trouble spotting the differences, but he felt them. Katherine—she made him realize how foolish he’d been, all these decades, waiting for a woman who’d never loved him. Elena made him want to be better—her smile warmed him, her disappointment stung like no one else’s. And he felt closer to Stefan, more like brothers, than he had in a long time. Shoshana would notice these things and appreciate them.

And then Damon actually saw her.

And every pleasant thought flew from his mind.

His heart twisted in his chest and all he remembered was the anger, clouding his vision red. He turned away, willing his face to return to normal—it was broad daylight, after all. The thought of her expression when she saw him—the terror and dread—it made his mouth water and he wanted to draw out the anticipation, savor it. But he didn’t have _time_ , he reminded himself, trying to calm down. Damon was not one to deny himself what he badly wanted. But he also wasn’t one to destroy his own careful plans with a careless act. So he took a deep breath, calmed himself, and stepped out of the shadows and into her line of sight.

It took every ounce of his restraint to stay still while she reacted. _Don’t run_ , he thought to her. _Don’t run!_ He desperately _wanted_ her to run because he desperately wanted to chase her; but that would be ill-advised in a public setting. The look she gave him was… satisfying. And also shattering. Horror, shock, nausea, anger—no pleasure, none at all, no happiness or even relief. She didn’t _want_ to see him, she didn’t _need_ to see him, and the list of people like that in the world grew one name longer.

He vanished before her friends could turn and see what she was staring at with so intense an expression. She looked around wildly, knowing he was still nearby—or maybe wondering if she was hallucinating. Despite his brief glance at the girls she was talking to he remembered their faces perfectly well—it wouldn’t be hard to find them, leave their bodies around her like a shredded bouquet, heightening her fear in new and effective ways—but no, he _didn’t have time_. Damon tried to stay focused. He just needed to grab her and bring her home. Nothing fancy.

“Let’s go to the mall,” he heard her say with forced cheerfulness. Right now she knew crowds would keep her safe.

Well, _safer_.

“Come on, let’s go, it’ll be fun,” she insisted, and she finally got some of them to agree. They piled into one of their cars and it wasn’t difficult for Damon to follow them, though he stayed out of sight. Let her relax a little, let her tell herself that her imagination was running away with her. Let her remember everything she’d been trying to forget since the last time they were together.

Then he would pounce.

 

“So, about my height, with lighter hair?” Elena prompted.

Stefan blinked, then grinned. “Sorry, I got distracted.”

Elena grinned back and punched his arm. “This was your idea! Are you sure you didn’t have an ulterior motive?”

Stefan leaned forward to kiss her. “I am beginning to think my motivations weren’t as pure as I had originally imagined,” he admitted.

“Focus,” Elena insisted pleasantly. She was sitting on her bed in her jeans and a white lace bra, a notepad on her knee as she tried to get a description of their impending houseguest that would aid her in shopping for clothes. _Think of her like a refugee_ , Stefan had said, and he wasn’t prone to exaggeration. Elena was determined that the girl would have everything she needed the moment she walked in the door.

“Paler skin,” Stefan decided, not at all upset about an opportunity for gazing on Elena. “Brown eyes.” He tried to phrase the next part delicately, but without _seeming_ like he was trying to be delicate. “She’s not as slender as you.”

He felt he’d succeeded when Elena didn’t react much. “Hmm, let’s see if we can figure this out,” she suggested, peering at a diagram in the clothing catalog spread on the bed. She produced a tape measure and wrapped it around her waist at the spot indicated by the sizing chart. “What do you think?” she asked him. “Probably more, right?”

With a thoughtful look Stefan adjusted the tape measure, pulling it out a few more inches. “I think that looks right,” he decided, though he had never tried to superimpose one person’s body on another’s before and measure it, so he could be wrong. Somehow he had the feeling this was more Damon’s style.

Elena marked the number down. “Okay, hips.” She stood from the bed and started to measure herself.

“I think you’ll need to take off your jeans,” Stefan suggested innocently. “For maximum accuracy.”

“Well we want to be accurate,” Elena smirked. She didn’t make a _show_ of removing her pants, but she didn’t take them off as quickly as she would have if she were alone. Stefan watched appreciatively—and also respectfully, in a way that didn’t make her feel like she was a piece of meat on display for his enjoyment. Unlike _some_ people did.

She wrapped the tape measure around the fullest part of her hips and suddenly had a total girl moment. “Oh my G-d, is my butt really that big?”

Stefan grinned fondly. “I like it.”

“So you’re saying it _is_ that big?” she accused, before losing her serious expression in a giggle.

Stefan rolled off the bed and approached her, her heartbeat increasing even though she _knew_ he wasn’t going to interrupt their project just yet. He moved gracefully, like a lion, with strength and power coiled in every step—but she didn’t feel threatened, just… pleasantly alert. Then he dropped to his knees in front of her and her heartbeat went through the roof.

“More like this, I think,” he told her, adjusting the tape measure to match Shoshana’s figure. His grin said he knew exactly what effect he was having on her, and the darkening of his eyes said he was feeling the same way. Then he frowned at the tape measure, momentarily drawn back on target. “Does that seem right to you? The waist wasn’t that much bigger.”

“She must be more of an hourglass shape,” Elena concluded. She wouldn’t mind a little more sand in the top of _her_ hourglass, that was certain, but she didn’t like to obsess over things like that.

“I guess so.” Stefan cleared his throat and when she looked down at him his expression was one of confession. “I should tell you,” he began sheepishly, “that Shoshana and I have slept together.”

“Oh.” The thought had never occurred to her before and it startled her.

Stefan interpreted her reaction as displeasure and carefully withdrew his hands from her waist. “I didn’t know when to mention it,” he went on cautiously, “but I thought it would be better if _I_ told you, than…” No need to finish that sentence; they both knew Damon would’ve taken great delight in surprising Elena with that piece of information.

“No, it’s okay,” she assured him, running her fingers through his hair to draw him back. “It was a long time ago.”

“It was,” he agreed more comfortably.

“I just thought she and Damon…”

There was really no delicate way to put this. “Well, Damon doesn’t really have a problem sharing things.”

Elena wrinkled her nose, understanding what he meant. “And that _should_ be a good thing, but somehow…”

“Yeah,” Stefan agreed with a sigh.

Putting a smile on her face that was only a _little_ forced, Elena pulled Stefan to his feet. “Come on, one more thing to measure,” she pointed out. She wrapped the tape measure around her bust and stepped back to give him a better view. “What do you think?”

He didn’t have so much trouble readjusting the tape this time, which she didn’t know how to interpret now. “I think you were right about the hourglass,” he decided.

Elena stepped aside and grabbed her notepad, to write the numbers down. At least they would give her a rough idea of what size clothing to pick out—she’d planned to go mostly for loose-fitting things anyway, figuring she could go shopping with Shoshana later for the rest. Fortunately with the Salvatores money wasn’t an issue.

Stefan came up behind her with her bathrobe. “Are you getting cold?” he offered, though he certainly wasn’t tired of looking at her in her underwear.

She turned around and slid her arms around his waist. “Not especially,” she assured him with a smile.

He draped it over her shoulders anyway and pulled her closer. “I should tell you something else about Shoshana,” he began and she tensed involuntarily. “Not about her _personally_ ,” he clarified. “It’s just because she’s a source.”

“What?”

“Vampires can sense her. Smell her,” he explained. “They’re drawn to her. Damon might not let her go out much.”

Elena frowned up at him, like he knew she would. “But I thought a vampire couldn’t bite her without permission.”

“They can’t,” Stefan agreed. “But there are other ways they could hurt or coerce her.” He didn’t like to put dark thoughts like these in Elena’s head; but it was better she know now than be surprised later.

“So he’ll keep her inside… for her own protection?” Elena checked, sounding slightly dubious.

As she should. “And because he tends to lose his mind when she’s around,” he admitted. “It’s because she’s a source and… I don’t know. I might act strangely around her myself,” he added. “Feel free to point this out when you notice it.”

He tried to make his tone lighter but Elena wasn’t smiling. “I was hoping when you said Damon might treat her badly, you were exaggerating,” she admitted. “But I’m getting the feeling you were actually understating things.” Stefan sighed and hugged her gently, not wanting to agree out loud.

 

She was clever, there was no denying that. She stuck close to her friends, never drifted towards the back of the group or to a different rack of clothes. People would notice if she went missing. He didn’t really care so much about that, he supposed—they’d be gone before security was even brought in, out of the country before it made the local news. It still wouldn’t be good to be spotted, though, and he took careful note of all the cameras to avoid them.

At last he saw his opportunity and pounced. Well, not literally, unfortunately. He just walked up behind her and put one hand on her waist and the other on her arm. “Don’t scream,” he whispered in her ear.

A jolt went through her body and then through his pressed against her, and she gasped but didn’t scream. He closed his eyes for a second, breathing in that scent he remembered so well, feeling her warmth through his hands. But he couldn’t linger. “Walk out the back door with me,” he hissed. “Or I snap your blond friend’s neck before anyone even sees me.” The friend in question was almost around the corner, near the dressing rooms. He could zip by and leave her slumped on the floor in an instant. Probably he could have left the threat unsaid, but that wasn’t as much fun.

Shoshana didn’t respond, but when he pressed lightly in the direction he wanted she went, her body stiff, heart pounding. Good, work up some adrenaline, he thought. He pushed her out the back door of the store and around the corner into a service alley, dimly lit and deserted, and put her back to the wall with his hands braced on either side of her.

For a long moment he just looked at her, up and down. They could have been anywhere, any time, no time at all, everything frozen around them. There was no sound but her quick breathing and the pounding of her heart.

She looked tired, he thought—dark circles under her eyes from being kept awake by nightmares or headaches, chapped nose and lips from a recent cold, a few blemishes typical of others whose age she appeared. He could help with all those things, all those petty inconveniences. His gaze settled on her lips and he leaned down to kiss her.

And she shoved him away. It was effective only in expressing her intention, of course, not in actually changing his action if he hadn’t allowed it. He locked eyes with her, his burning, her moist. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he told her darkly. He leaned down again, more forcefully this time—he wasn’t really trying to kiss her as he didn’t fancy getting his tongue bitten off, but maybe he’d take a quick nip from her neck.

Naturally, she struggled. “Let me go!” she demanded. He remembered that voice, so full of fear and fury, fighting even when he was so much stronger. He supposed she had to say it at least once.

“Shoshana—“ He didn’t want to hurt her _too_ much and tried to pin her arms to her sides, to push her legs on either side of his—vampire or not, getting kneed in the groin _hurt_. “Don’t—I just—“ He didn’t even know what he wanted to say and dissolved into growls as she fought harder. The scent was too much for him and he felt his fangs pop, and then he _had_ to have a taste right now, had to feel her blood on his tongue, with her body pressed against his and squirming just the right way, the little sounds she made that could be either protest or pleasure—did she even know herself at this point? Maybe, maybe if he could get a taste now, this could still end well, he could still persuade her, they could—

There was a shout from nearby and Damon’s head snapped up, eyes red, fangs bared, snarling, to see some do-gooder at the entrance to the alley. Enraged at the interruption Damon flew at him and buried his fangs in his neck, ripping a messy hole out of fury more than hunger. He tossed the body aside and turned back to Shoshana, anticipating her expression at his blood-covered face—but she was gone, a nearby door swinging to indicate her path.

Well, he wasn’t going to chase her through the mall. Oh, he wanted to, but it would be incredibly stupid. Slowly Damon’s face returned to normal and he licked the blood off it, looking thoughtfully at the body at his feet, which he now had to dispose of. He didn’t mind a few extra steps. The obstacles made the chase fun.

Besides, he’d lifted her wallet from her purse, so now he knew where she lived.

 

“Wow, I didn’t realize all this stuff came as kosher,” Elena admitted, staring at the shelves in front of them. They’d driven over to Neoga to shop at one of the larger stores that had a better selection. “So tell me more about Shoshana,” she requested of Stefan, who was dutifully putting items in the cart. “What’s she like?”

“Hmm,” he began, which wasn’t the best sign. “She’s… quiet. Sometimes.”

“Quiet sometimes?” Elena repeated, teasing him just a little.

He tried harder. “She’s very affectionate, and she reads a lot,” he expanded, “and she can be very funny and enthusiastic.” Not that he got to see much of that around Damon. He tried to remember the times when it had been just the two of them—maybe times that Elena didn’t want to hear about in detail. “She’s very strong. And compassionate and warm and emotional.” Hmm, the expression on Elena’s face said maybe he should’ve stopped after ‘funny,’ so he lapsed into silence, pretending to be studying the food choices closely.

“Is she… religious?” Elena guessed, since he’d told her she only ate kosher food.

“Yes, she liked to go to synagogue regularly.”

“I’m having trouble picturing Damon doing that,” she admitted with a dark smirk.

“He did, though,” Stefan assured her. “Their relationship is… very complicated.” And wasn’t that the understatement of the year. “You know Damon. He has to complicate everything. Katherine, you, Shoshana. Nothing simple.”

Elena had to admit that was true. “So the three of you… traveled together, or…?” she hinted as they moved on to another aisle.

“On and off,” he replied. He didn’t mean to be vague, but the story wasn’t entirely his to tell—and it wasn’t always very pleasant. “She would get lonely, with just the two of us,” he tried to explain. “Damon would eat all our human friends, and our vampire friends always wanted to eat _her_ , so…”

“Awkward,” Elena deadpanned.

“Then she and Damon would fight, and… Eventually she left,” he said. “Just walked out. He… was upset.” No, _that_ was the understatement of the year. “A few decades later he went looking for her, made her stay for a while, then she left again. It became a pattern.”

“He doesn’t handle people leaving well,” Elena observed.

“No, he doesn’t,” Stefan agreed. “I can’t blame her, though. When he cares about something he has a tendency to… crush it.”

Elena shivered a little. “Let’s go look at the clothes,” she suggested.


	2. Chapter 2

The phone was answered on the first ring. “ _Hi_ ,” Shoshana said, with resignation in her tone.

“Where are you, honey?” Lisa asked, worried but not panicky. “Kayla called, she said you just disappeared from the mall…”

“ _I’m not coming back home_ ,” Shoshana stated flatly. “ _I can’t. I have to go away_.”

“What? Honey, what are you talking about?”

“ _You remember when you took me in, and I said that someday I might have to leave suddenly?_ ” Shoshana asked. “ _Because there was a man who was after me, who would kill anyone who got in his way?_ ”

“Shoshana, honey, what are you saying?” Actually the man in question was sitting across the kitchen table from Lisa, but she was under compulsion and couldn’t make that connection. “Do you need us to pick you up somewhere?”

“ _I’m not coming home_ ,” Shoshana repeated firmly. “ _You won’t see me again. It’s safer for everyone this way._ ”

Frustrated, Damon took the phone from Lisa’s grasp. “ _I_ wouldn’t say it was safer,” he informed her. To his disappointment she didn’t seem surprised to hear his voice on the line. “In fact, if you don’t come back home right now, I’d say it was going to be very _unsafe_ for your foster parents here.” And this definitely wasn’t just an idle threat.

“ _I can’t get back home anytime soon_ ,” Shoshana told him, her voice just the tiniest bit unsteady. He liked to hear the fear in it.

“Why not?”

“ _I’m on a train_.”

Damon frowned. He didn’t exactly hear train noises in the background. “Well where’s the train _going_?” he asked her, exasperation threatening to ruin the menace he was going for.

“ _Saskatoon_.”

He gave up on menace completely. It wasn’t nearly as much fun when he couldn’t see her reactions. “Saskatoon? Who the h—l goes to Saskatoon?!”

“ _Well that’s where I’m going_ ,” Shoshana replied.

Damon thought this over quickly. “I’ll meet you in Saskatoon,” he decided. “And if you aren’t there, I know where Mommy and Daddy are, and I’ll make them suffer,” he promised, relishing the idea.

But Shoshana had learned a few things herself. “ _I’m going to call them every hour_ ,” she warned him. “ _If_ _they don’t answer I’ll disappear_.”

“Disappear all you want,” he told her in a purr. “I’ll find you.” He hung up the phone.

 

Shoshana wasn’t on a train. In fact, she wasn’t very far from the house where she’d been living in Vancouver. She knew she was taking an awful risk in lying to Damon, not just for herself but for the people she’d come to care about in the last few years. But she had to make sure he’d left them alone. And then she would run, and he’d be too busy chasing her to care about them.

She watched him leave the house not long after he’d hung up, trotting down the front steps so casual and innocent. He could be so sweet, and he could also be a monster, and it didn’t seem to bother him that both of those things were within him—he wasn’t like Stefan, always trying to suppress his violent instincts, but he also wasn’t completely evil. He just didn’t care about humans anymore, holding them in as little regard as they held rats or cockroaches. Well, maybe something a little tastier. Shoshana couldn’t bring herself to that frame of mind, no matter what differences existed between her and humans. He liked to say they were on a different level, not subject to human morality, human choices; but even among non-humans Damon left destruction in his wake. Did that make him more enlightened than everyone else, or simply wrong?

She didn’t know. She didn’t like to think about it much. Maybe that was why she couldn’t completely hate him, no matter what he did. She ought to have her own philosophy, some line that once crossed, could never be forgiven. But that wasn’t how she worked. She went with her heart, she always had. Even when it told her things that seemed horrifying to those around her.

She knew she’d end up going with him. Maybe Stefan would be there. It would be nice to see him again, to see what they’d been up to, if they’d changed at all. She’d see how long it lasted this time.

Shoshana waited about an hour, making sure Damon hadn’t come back to the house, then she slipped from her hiding place and hurried up the front steps. It would be hard to explain to her parents why she was leaving, but they wouldn’t be able to persuade her to stay; she’d said good-bye too many times. She knew the drill.

“Mom? Dad?” she called, entering the house. She didn’t know if they’d remember talking to her on the phone earlier, or—

Then she saw her father.

Or rather, part of him.

Shoshana didn’t try to catalog the horror, she just understood what the remains, the blood spatters, meant and she ran, through the house to the kitchen, where her mother slumped at the table, very much not alive. Her heart rose in her throat; she didn’t know where to look where she wouldn’t see the blood, or maybe it was just burned into her memory, even when she closed her eyes—

“Don’t scream,” said a voice behind her, and then he had to clamp a hand over her mouth because she screamed anyway, without meaning to, and couldn’t stop until he slammed her back against the wall and knocked the breath out of her. “You _lied_ to me,” he snarled in her ear. “Don’t think I can’t tell when you’re lying to me!”

“You—you didn’t have to—“ She was gasping for air, sobbing warring with talking, both equally futile.

“Eh, maybe not,” Damon shrugged, his smirk callous. “But I don’t like it when you lie to me. And I haven’t got time to chase you down.”

Maybe that last statement should’ve been important, but she wasn’t processing his words well right now. Instead she lashed out, fury and fear mixing together until she couldn’t stand still if she wanted to, she had to kick and hit and scratch even if it hurt her more than it hurt him.

“Shoshana—Sosie—G-d, I don’t—“ His words made no sense to her and then they were only growls and curses as he held her in place, trying to keep her still or kiss her or bite her or grope her, she wasn’t sure, she didn’t care. She didn’t even know what she wanted, just to punish him like he loved to punish her—she could run, she could fight, but he was stronger, he was always stronger.

Suddenly his grip slackened and she almost didn’t know what to do, she was so surprised to have caught him off-guard somehow. Then she ran, down the hallway to her room, and she actually beat him there and slammed the door, locking it.

Damon caught his breath in the kitchen—technically he didn’t _need_ to breathe, but it was a good coping mechanism when you’d been kneed in the groin. Lucky shot, must’ve been, he decided. Didn’t help that he’d been _enjoying_ her frantic struggle a little too much. He picked up her mother’s arm from the kitchen table and sucked some blood out of it—it was cold and dead and nasty, but it cleared his head well enough.

Damon sauntered down the hall to the bedroom door and knocked on it politely. “Shoshana? Really, a locked door?” he called out. “I’m kind of insulted, honey.” No answer, no sound at all. “Look, we don’t have to do this,” he proposed in a reasonable tone. “Just come with me. We’re going back to Mystic Falls. Stefan’s there, I know you like Stefan.” Nothing. “Okay, fine.” And he kicked the door in. A little theatrical, yes, but no one ever accused him of being subtle.

He didn’t see her. “Okay, really, I have to hunt for you?” he told the room at large. “This is _boring_. Gee, are you under the bed?” No. “Hmm, are you in the closet?” He pawed messily through all the clothes, tossed some things off the shelves. She wasn’t there. Damon slowly turned around the room, peering around a corner and even glancing up at the ceiling, because that’s where people always hid in the movies. He didn’t think she could fit out the window—he’d examined that first thing when he’d come to the house.

The door creaked and he turned back to it, realizing the one place he hadn’t checked. “Seriously, behind the door?” he chided, reaching for it. “You could’ve gotten hurt when I—“ He saw the stake in her hand at the last instant and dodged, awkward but effective, feeling the sharp point stab into his stomach. It was painful but not fatal, or even incapacitating.

She tried to run by him and he grabbed her arm and jerked her back, harder than he’d meant. She cried out in pain but, well, she’d stabbed him, and it _hurt_. Wincing he yanked the stake out and flung it aside. “Now,” he told her, glaring down at her, “you’re gonna fix that.” He yanked her arm up at a painful angle and she cried out again and started to collapse. He grabbed her and slammed her against the shattered door, holding her still while his eyes reddened and his fangs unsheathed. Then he bit down into her wrist.

The taste was indescribable. It was like tapping into a cask of homemade wine for the first time, the first glass a little rough, a little raw, but you knew there were sweeter things in store, and as you rolled it around in your mouth you could taste the sunshine on the grapes and the rain and the soil and the hard work and patience that had gone into growing them.

Yeah, it was kind of like that. Transporting. When Damon opened his eyes again he was almost surprised to find himself still in her bedroom.

He pulled his mouth away, not wanting to drain her too much; they had a long trip ahead. Her breathing was labored and tears stained her face; she stared at him with accusatory eyes. He let her arm go and she immediately curled it up against her body.

“Don’t give me that judgy look,” Damon told her. “You knew this was coming.” He scooped a random piece of clothing off the floor and tossed it to her, to wrap around her wrist. It was a shame to waste that delicious blood, but she would make more. And it would be even better next time.

He lifted the hem of his t-shirt to check on the wound she’d given him—there was no trace of it now except for the blood staining his skin and clothes, and the hole in the shirt. Maybe her father had a shirt he could wear instead—not like he was going to need it.

She was sitting on the floor now, leaning against the door, cradling her arm, crying. She looked so beautiful when she cried. Maybe that was part of the problem. Damon sat down next to her.

“So, Mystic Falls,” he repeated conversationally. “It’s nice this time of year. And Stefan’s there. Oh, he’s got this girlfriend, you’ll love her, everybody does. Oh, and Katherine’s back, that’s why I need you. Long story. She’s a b---h.” He paused. “Actually that about sums it up.” Shoshana was turned away from him, not paying much attention. His eyes were drawn to the curve of her neck, her cheek, her eyelashes heavy with tears. “I forgot how beautiful you are,” he said, almost without meaning to. In response she hiccupped and cried harder.

He reached for her gently. “Sosie—shh, don’t—“ He ran his thumb over her wet cheek, turning her carefully to face him, and started to lean in.

“No,” she said distinctly before his lips could touch hers. “I’ll go with you, and I’ll feed you, but that’s it.”

He pulled back, eyes blazing. “Well, _thanks_ ,” he said, deeply sarcastic. “In case you’re not getting it, I was going to _make_ you do those things anyway.” He let her go and pulled out his phone.

At the boarding house, Stefan sat up on the couch and answered his phone as Elena muted the TV. “Where are you?” he asked his brother.

“ _Vancouver_ ,” Damon replied. “ _How’s the home front?_ ”

“Fine,” Stefan said shortly. Elena gave him a questioning look. “Did you…?” He wasn’t sure what answer he hoped for.

“ _Right here next to me, bro_ ,” Damon said smugly, and then Stefan knew he _hadn’t_ hoped for that one. “ _Here, say hello to Stefan_ ,” Damon instructed.

The first thing Stefan heard was sniffling. “Shoshana?” he asked.

“ _Hi, Stefan_ ,” a familiar voice replied brokenly, and his heart sank. Elena wrapped her arms around his, seeing the expression on his face.

What kind of conversation did one have at this point? “Shoshana, are you—are you okay?”

“ _He killed my parents_ ,” she blurted, and Stefan’s eyes blazed with anger.

“ _They’re just fake parents, only for show_ ,” Damon corrected, as if this made them much less important.

Stefan tried to rein in his temper. “Shoshana, I am so sorry—“ he began in all sincerity.

“ _This conversation is getting boring_ ,” Damon declared, obviously having taken the phone back. “ _So we’ll be_ —“

“You f-----g b-----d,” Stefan snapped at him, and Elena’s eyes widened.

“ _You’ve been watching Tarantino movies while I’ve been gone_ ,” Damon quipped. “ _We’ll be back in about twelve hours_ ,” he went on, businesslike. “ _Get some food for her, will you? Kosher. And maybe some clothes._ ”

“We already have,” Stefan replied through gritted teeth.

“ _Hear that?_ ” Damon said to Shoshana. “ _Stefan’s already feathered the nest for you. See you later_ ,” he added into the phone before hanging up.

At the boarding house Stefan set his phone down and gently disentangled himself from Elena, then punched a wooden column several times until it cracked. Fortunately it was only decorative, not structural. “They’ll be back in about twelve hours,” he relayed to Elena, once he trusted himself to speak. Not knowing how else to respond to him she slipped an arm around his tense shoulders and held him close.

 

Several hours later, after dark and in the middle of a rainstorm, the front door banged open, startling Stefan and Elena. “—and this _f-----g rain_!” they heard Damon exclaim from the hallway, and Elena rolled her eyes.

“I’ll go get a towel,” she decided, heading for the bathroom. Anything to avoid seeing Damon for a few minutes more.

Damon entered Stefan’s view hopping on one foot as he took off a shoe and sock, casually discarding them in the middle of the floor. The other pair ended up several feet away as he headed for the lit fireplace to dry off.

Stefan frowned at him. “Where’s Shoshana?” he asked in confusion.

Damon looked around, then stomped back over to the hallway and reappeared dragging a disheveled, sopping wet creature behind him. Stefan went to her immediately and embraced her despite her sodden clothes and hair. “Shoshana,” he sighed regretfully as he heard her sobs—whether fresh or sustained, he couldn’t be sure. “Shh, shh, it’s okay.” Well, it really wasn’t _okay_ , because Damon was still around, showing far more consideration to his leather jacket as he draped it over a chair before the fire. “Come over here and warm up,” Stefan encouraged. He gave Damon a look and the other man moved away to the sideboard for a drink so Shoshana could sink down in front of the fire, shivering.

Elena walked back into the room with a towel. “Here, this was the biggest—“

Shoshana’s eyes widened in alarm and she scrambled to her feet, backing away to Damon’s side. “No, it’s okay, it’s not Katherine,” he assured her.

“This is Elena, my girlfriend,” Stefan said quickly. “It’s okay, come back to the fire,” he coaxed gently.

Shoshana seemed to believe them. “Sorry,” she told Elena with a tiny, sheepish smile. “I’ve seen pictures of Katherine and…” Elena shifted uncomfortably and Shoshana stopped talking, kneeling down by the fire again.

“It’s okay,” Stefan assured her. “She _does_ look like Katherine… You didn’t tell her?” he added pointedly to Damon.

His brother shrugged without remorse. “Must’ve slipped my mind.”

Determined to overcome the momentary awkwardness Elena stepped forward with the towel. “Here—“

“Thanks,” Damon said obliviously, taking it from her. He started drying his hair. “The storm hit around Canton and—“

“That’s for _her_ , jacka-s,” Elena snapped, snatching the towel back and draping it around Shoshana’s shoulders. The other girl seemed rather impressed with Elena’s fearless attitude, especially as Damon merely glared at her for a moment, then went back to his drink. “Um, Shoshana?” Elena went on tentatively, bending down to better look her in the eye. “Stefan and I got a room ready for you. Maybe you would like to come up and take a hot shower, have something to eat?”

The other girl smiled in gratitude so sincerely that Elena felt even worse for her, and angrier at Damon. “Yes, thank you.”

Elena started to help her stand but froze when she winced as she touched her arm. Shoshana cradled it to her chest and Elena could see that the flesh outside of her sleeve had started to swell. “Oh my G-d, you’re hurt,” she realized in concern. Naturally she shot an accusatory look at Damon.

“She’ll heal,” he said dismissively.

“Probably before morning,” Stefan added in a more compassionate tone. “Maybe some ice would help, to bring down the swelling.”

Elena nodded and gingerly helped the other girl to stand. Stefan took a step closer to assist, but then he suddenly stopped, blinking rapidly, and he dropped his hand awkwardly and stepped back, farther than was necessary to allow the girls to pass. Elena gave him a confused look, Shoshana a resigned one.

“Goodnight,” he said instead, a bit stiffly.

“Goodnight, sweetie,” Damon added to the girls in an obnoxious tone. They both ignored him.

As soon as they had left Stefan turned on his brother with a look that demanded he explain himself. “Tasty as ever,” Damon commented instead, nodding after Shoshana.

“Then why are you drinking _that_?” Stefan challenged, indicating the scotch.

“Habit. Oh my G-d, I’m an alcoholic!” Damon said, with a tone of mock horror. “That reminds me, though…” He began pulling all the bottles from the cabinet. “We should put all the booze down in the wine cellar.”

“What? Why?”

Damon looked at his brother like he was a moron. “She’s Little Miss Temperance League! She’ll be happier without all the alcohol sitting around.” He looked around the living room speculatively. “You know, we might get some new curtains, too, lighten this mausoleum up a little bit. She likes pink. Would that be too much?” Stefan stared at him. “It would be, wouldn’t it?” Damon nodded, changing his mind. “Maybe yellow.”

“You killed her parents, you kidnapped her, and I think you broke her arm!” Stefan pointed out.

“Are those in any sort of order?” Damon questioned.

“Fixing up the house will _not_ make up for those things!” Stefan was forced to state.

“Clearly you don’t know women,” Damon shot back with a smirk.

Stefan took a step towards him. “Damon, I swear, if you—“

“Ah ah ah,” Damon warned patronizingly. “ _I’ve_ already had a little Shoshana. And _you_ , I assume, have only been feasting on squirrels, per usual.” He stepped up to meet his brother’s fierce gaze. “So my advantage over you is now _even greater_. You want me to prove it by hanging you from the chandelier? Maybe Elena will come along and rescue you.”

Stefan was _not happy_. But he had to admit that Damon was right—he _was_ stronger, and even more so if he’d drunk Shoshana’s blood already. That was her point, as far as Damon cared. “If you continue to torture her,” he promised anyway, “I _will_ find a way to stop you.”

Damon fairly scoffed in his face. “Well start thinking,” he suggested flippantly. He grabbed his jacket and sauntered towards the stairs. “You’ll put the drinks away, right?” he checked, delegating that chore. Then he was gone.

 

Having now seen the mysterious Shoshana—and how Damon treated her—Elena was eager to know more about her from Stefan. But he was puzzlingly, frustratingly unhelpful on the issue. Knowing that Stefan was an inherently decent person, Elena tried to trust that he was as troubled by the situation as she was, and was perhaps preoccupied thinking of ways to alleviate it.

In the middle of the night Elena opened her eyes into the darkness of Stefan’s bedroom, feeling groggy and disoriented. He was lying beside her, unnaturally still, his own eyes wide open. After a moment Elena realized what had awakened her—erratic moans and gasps that carried through the old house from another room.

For a moment she thought Damon and Shoshana were having sex, unlikely as that seemed, and wondered with sudden embarrassment just what Damon listened to from _their_ bedroom. But then she realized the sounds were… something else.

“What…?” she finally mumbled to Stefan.

He continued to stare at the ceiling. “She’s having a nightmare,” he reported in a curiously flat tone.

“Shoshana?” Elena shook her head to clear her foggy brain, then resolutely pushed the covers off herself. “We should go check on her.”

Stefan grabbed her hand, stopping her. “Damon might—“

“I don’t care _what_ Damon does,” Elena snapped, more cranky than brave. “Are you coming or not?”

Her expression issued him a challenge that he had to meet, though with confusing reluctance, and he slid out of bed after her. They padded down the dark hallway to the room they’d set up for Shoshana—adjacent to Damon’s, against Elena’s preference—and she knocked gingerly on the door.

“Shoshana?” Elena pushed the door open slowly and walked into the bedroom. In the moonlight streaming in from the window, she could see the other girl tossing and turning in her bed. With someone she was close to, like Bonnie, Elena would’ve known what to do, but now she was suddenly nervous, not wanting to startle this girl who had already been through too much today. She turned to Stefan. “Maybe you should—“

He was staring at Shoshana, transfixed, with an intensity that alarmed Elena. His muscles were tense, even when she touched his arm—and his eyes were starting to redden. “Stefan? Stefan!”

“I’ll take care of this,” Damon announced, and Elena jumped as he came up behind her, sliding smoothly past on his way to the bed. He was dressed in a t-shirt and jeans and didn’t look like he’d just awakened—surely if he’d been in his room he would’ve heard Shoshana first anyway. Which made Elena wonder what he’d been up to instead.

Elena started to object, just on principle, but Stefan turned away swiftly and headed out the door. Meanwhile Damon eased himself down on the mattress and coaxed the not-fully-awake Shoshana into his arms, mindful of her injuries. “It’s only a dream, Sosie,” he whispered in her ear, his tone and touch shockingly tender in Elena’s view. “Shh, it’s only a dream, just a dream… Shut the door,” he added, louder and dismissive, and Elena knew that was meant for her. Not sure what else to do, she stepped out of the bedroom, pulling the door closed behind her.

Turning around slowly, Elena saw Stefan at the other end of the hallway, leaning on the balcony rail with a moody expression. He glanced up at her momentarily, then went back to gazing down at the floor below. She took that as an invitation to lean beside him, a questioning look on her face.

“She has nightmares,” he said, opening with an obvious statement. “We’ll probably hear her again.”

Elena nodded. “What happened to you?” She could understand why Shoshana had nightmares; Stefan’s behavior was what didn’t make sense.

“I told you I might act… strangely around her,” he reminded her, in an introductory rather than defensive way. “She’s so…” He looked off into the darkness, searching for the best words, the ones that would be honest without frightening Elena. “She’s very appealing. To vampires,” he said, going with the general approach. “Because of her blood.”

“You wanted to bite her,” Elena stated, not terribly surprised at this.

“Not just bite her,” Stefan confessed, then hurried to continue before Elena thought he was talking about something else. “To _chase_ her. We’re predators—the hunt can be more important than catching the prey.” Elena swallowed and nodded; he had said this to her before, but it was so hard to imagine Stefan as a _predator_. “And she is the ultimate prey,” he added with a defeated sigh. “That’s why Damon couldn’t just… send her an email and ask her to come back. He had to hunt her down and drag her back in his teeth. He probably would’ve taken longer to stalk her but realized he didn’t have the time.”

Elena wrapped her arm around Stefan’s. “It’s no excuse for him,” she decided firmly. “You wanted to chase her just now, and you _didn’t_. You _chose_ not to.”

Stefan buried his face in his hands, more sheepish than upset at this point. “It was really hard,” he admitted. “The way she was moving, and…”

Elena stretched her arm around his shoulders and kissed his cheek. “But you _didn’t_ ,” she reminded him again. Then she frowned. “Why didn’t Damon… _pounce_ on her when _he_ came in?”

“He’s already had some of her blood,” Stefan explained. “The… desire is less keen for him at the moment.” He smiled ruefully. “Doesn’t mean he won’t keep toying with her, though.”

Elena looked back at the door she’d closed, then turned to whisper in Stefan’s ear. “He was so gentle with her,” she commented, not wanting Damon to overhear this.

“It’s complicated,” Stefan could only say again.


	3. Chapter 3

Elena waited until about ten AM before knocking on Shoshana’s door the next morning. When she opened it tentatively, the other girl looked up from the couch where she was eating a bowl of oatmeal, still dressed in her pajamas. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you,” Elena apologized.

“No, it’s okay, come in,” Shoshana insisted brightly, scooting over on the couch so Elena could join her. “Would you like some oatmeal?” She indicated the container on the coffee table nearby.

“No, thank you,” Elena assured her, sitting down on the couch.

There was a brief pause as Shoshana looked at her with a frank but friendly expression. “Why do you look so much like Katherine?” she asked. “I’m sorry, I know it makes you uncomfortable,” she added sincerely, touching Elena’s knee.

Elena blinked, not expecting that question so quickly. “Oh, um, we don’t really know,” she confessed. “We think maybe Katherine had a child before she became a vampire, so I might be a descendent.”

“Hmm,” Shoshana answered cryptically, as though she didn’t quite accept that. She finally pulled her hand away from Elena’s knee so she could continue eating.

“Do you know a lot about Katherine?” Elena asked quickly, trying to divert the subject slightly.

“Oh, I’ve heard stories, seen pictures,” Shoshana shrugged. “It’s hard not to, living with _them_.” Elena knew she was referring to Stefan and Damon, though _her_ experience had been that trying to get any information about the subject out of either brother was rather difficult. “Are you happy with Stefan?” Shoshana asked suddenly, changing the subject herself.

“Well, yes,” Elena answered automatically, then she laughed a little, self-conscious. “I mean, it’s not what I imagined my life would be like”—something of an understatement there—“but yeah, I’m really happy with him.” She thought of Stefan, just Stefan, and not his crazy brother or homicidal ex or all the other assorted characters of varying levels of menace who trailed in his wake—just Stefan, and she smiled.

Shoshana smiled, too. “Good. Stefan is such a sweet guy. He’s such a… gentleman. Maybe that’s old-fashioned,” she added with some hesitation.

People could never go wrong with Elena by complimenting Stefan, though. “No, that’s exactly what I think,” she agreed readily. “He’s always thinking about other people and how he can help them. But even so, sometimes he looks at me, and I know he’s _only_ thinking about me, like—“ She broke off, face flushing with embarrassment. Something about Shoshana made her so easy to talk to, even though Elena barely knew her.

“Like you’re the only girl in the world,” she finished happily. “Good.”

“Oh, your arm looks better,” Elena noted, moving the subject off herself.

Shoshana glanced down at her unbruised arm as though she’d forgotten it was ever hurt. “Oh, yeah. It just takes a few hours sometimes.” She set her empty oatmeal bowl aside, then reached over to touch Elena’s hand. “Thank you so much for getting this room ready for me,” she added.

“Oh, well, most of it was Stefan’s idea,” Elena insisted modestly.

Shoshana began slicing up an apple and a block of cheddar cheese that were sitting nearby, eating the pieces together. “Oh, but the food, the books, the clothes… It’s _so_ thoughtful, it’s so comfortable.” She seemed sincere; but the gratitude made Elena a little angry, not at Shoshana but at Damon, who had just grabbed her and dumped her at the house with no plan of his own for providing for her. “Here, would you like some?” Shoshana offered, placing a sliver of apple and cheddar on a new plate for Elena.

“Sure, thanks,” she agreed. “Wow, this is really good. I’ve never had it before.”

“I love it,” Shoshana assured her. “And it’s pretty healthy, too. Well, maybe not if you eat a _lot_ of the cheese,” she giggled.

“Oh, Damon left a phone for you,” Elena remembered, pulling it out of her pocket. When she looked up, Shoshana was staring at her in alarm.

“Damon’s gone?” she asked with some urgency.

“He and Stefan went out this morning,” Elena told her, not sure if this was good news or not. “They had some errands to run.”

“Well, when—when will he be back?” she wanted to know.

“He said around two,” Elena replied cautiously. She hoped she hadn’t spoiled things by mentioning him. Shoshana rubbed her forehead with a distracted expression and the first thing Elena envisioned was that she was planning to make a run for it. And Elena really couldn’t blame her—there wasn’t any good argument against it, aside from Damon’s wrath. Which was no small thing, admittedly.

“Do you have his cell phone number?” Shoshana asked.

“Sure.” Elena sat up more on the couch and showed the other girl the phone Damon had left for her. “He’s in the directory here. There’s Stefan and there’s me…”

“Who are these other people?” Shoshana wondered, scrolling through the list.

Elena hadn’t looked at the phone much before and was surprised to see all the names herself. “Oh, they’re friends.”

“Damon’s friends?” Shoshana asked, mystified. “Are they vampires?”

“No, they’re all humans,” Elena corrected. “Well, Bonnie is a witch.”

Shoshana’s eyebrows shot up. “A _real_ witch?”

“Yeah. She’s my best friend, since we were little,” Elena explained. “She knows about the vampires and everything. And so does…” She rolled up the list a little. “Ric. Mr. Saltzman. He’s my history teacher. But he’s kind of a… scholar of the supernatural,” she went on, feeling her explanation was woefully inadequate but not wanting to get into it further right now. “The others are friends, too, but they don’t know there’s anything… unusual going on.”

Shoshana stared at her. “How is that possible? Damon never had human friends before…”

“Well, they’re—they’re more friends of me and Stefan,” Elena clarified. And why should she feel bad saying Damon had no friends of his own? He hadn’t done anything to _deserve_ them. “They’re all really nice and—what’s wrong?”

Shoshana was shaking her head. “I don’t understand. Does Damon just—How can they not _know_?” She seemed terribly confused and Elena tried to remember what Stefan had told her about his and Damon’s usual lifestyle.

“I think Damon’s really trying to blend in more,” she suggested cautiously. “They’ve been living in Mystic Falls for several months now. Stefan goes to school, people around town know Damon…” She decided not to mention his elaborate deception with the Sheriff and the Council; parts of it still made her too angry.

Shoshana poked at the phone, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Oh, Damon left me a voicemail,” she realized. “I’m going to play it. No, stay, please,” she added, putting her hand on Elena’s knee again when the other girl moved to go. “It’ll just be a second.”

The sound of Damon’s voice was reassuring to Shoshana, even if he hadn’t taken any trouble to make his tone comforting. “ _I’m out of the house with Stefan_ ,” the recorded message told her. “ _Don’t freak out. I’ll be back by two. I left Elena for you to play with._ ” And that was it.

She listened to it twice, then closed the phone and put it in the pocket of her pajama pants. Then she continued eating the apple and cheddar slices, trying to relax. “Please, have some more,” she insisted to Elena.

“Thanks. So… I don’t know what you want to do today,” Elena began. “If you just want to… rest or whatever. I guess Damon was up all night rearranging the furniture and cleaning.” She rolled her eyes a little, finding his behavior inexplicable. As far as she knew he’d never cleaned any part of the house before, ever. “I guess you’ve been here before, huh?”

“Oh, yes,” Shoshana agreed. “It’s fun to see how the humans living here change things every few years. Where’s the family today? I hope we didn’t disturb them last night,” she added optimistically.

“Oh,” replied Elena, slightly startled. “There isn’t a human living here anymore.” Yet another bad thing Damon had managed to do.

Shoshana looked up in apprehension again. “There’s not? There’s no human residing here?” Elena shook her head. “How do they keep the other vampires out?”

“Um, well, it doesn’t seem to be a problem. Generally,” Elena replied, feeling this explanation was unfortunately laughable. Shoshana glanced at the windows and door, as if expecting a hoard of vampires to burst in on them any moment. She abandoned her plate of food and curled up tighter on the couch, biting her lip, and Elena immediately felt bad for her. “Hey, it’s okay,” she tried, scooting closer. “It’s scary to think about sometimes—believe me, I know it is—but you can’t just sit around being scared all the time. You have to live your life.”

Belatedly she realized Shoshana _had_ been living her life, in Vancouver, when a vampire swooped in and destroyed it; but the comparison didn’t seem to bother the other girl, who unexpectedly threw her arms around Elena. “You’re so sweet,” she declared, teary-eyed. “Stefan must love you so much, you’re just perfect for him.”

Elena smiled a little, trying not to give the gushy words much credence—Shoshana hadn’t even really seen them together, so how would she know what they were like? But she clearly meant well. “So let’s not just sit in here today, huh?” she prompted gently. “Let’s go downstairs and… watch TV or something.” Wow, really showing fear who was boss there; but Damon had warned her before he left that they shouldn’t go outside the house, for their own protection. So as much as she wanted to encourage Shoshana’s sense of security, she also had to bow to practical concerns.

Shoshana pulled back to look at her. “Well, I guess you’re right,” she agreed. “But I—I think I want to stay in here a little longer,” she decided. She picked her food back up again. “It’s such a big house. And don’t you think it’s kind of creepy?” Her tone was normal now, conversational, and Elena relaxed.

“Oh, yeah, especially with that basement,” she agreed readily. “If you don’t mind my asking,” she added with hesitation, “how long did you live in Vancouver?”

“Three years,” Shoshana told her, not _too_ distressed by the topic, it seemed. “I stopped aging when I was eighteen, so I usually just find a nice couple to take me in”—here she faltered slightly, but continued after a moment—“and I go to high school. Sometimes I do a little college, too, but eventually I have to move to another town and find a new family. I don’t really like being on my own,” she added in a small voice, picking at some fluff on her pants.

“Wow, going to high school for decades,” Elena said, trying to lighten things up. “I don’t know if I could handle that. Four years seems like forever sometimes.”

Shoshana smiled. “I kind of like it. The classwork isn’t very difficult—I’ve done it all before—so I like to get to know new people. Some of them are so smart, and they really want to help people… I like to be around that.”

When relaxed Shoshana was chatty and friendly, and Elena was surprised by how comfortable she felt with her—not just because they had only just met, but also because of the unpleasant way she had arrived in Elena’s life. Not that Elena thought she should be _embarrassed_ by being dragged in, wet, injured, and indigent, but many people _would_. She’d been expecting the other girl to have trouble trusting her, or at least to feel awkward around her. But instead, it was easy to keep the conversation going. When Shoshana excused herself to go to the bathroom, Elena was surprised to see it was already noon. She took the opportunity to check in with Stefan.

_How’s it going?_ she texted.

A few moments later his reply appeared. _Okay. DAMON._ She smiled knowingly as she read the frustration in the word. _You?_

_Okay_ , she wrote back. _Sh so sweet. Scared to leave room. Eats a lot_ , she added as an afterthought, hoping she didn’t sound catty. Shoshana had gone through the oatmeal, the apple and cheddar, some yogurt, a bowl of cereal, and a package of tuna so far today. It was a little weird.

_All normal_ , Stefan assured her.

_Back by 2?_ she confirmed.

_Yes_. After a moment another message came through. _D—Sh should shop online w/ CC he left._

_Okay_ , Elena typed back. _Love you. Bye._ If Damon was intruding on their text conversation, it was time to end it.

Stefan seemed to understand. _Love you. Bye._

Shoshana returned from the bathroom. “Oh, it’s noon,” she realized. “Do you want some lunch? I’ll make you a sandwich.”

Elena shook her head, beginning to fear the amount of weight she would gain hanging around with Shoshana. “Hey, Damon left a credit card for you,” she mentioned, as the other girl fixed herself some lunch. “Maybe we could do some shopping on Amazon or something. I didn’t really know what kind of clothes you would like…”

Shoshana sat back down beside her on the couch— _right_ beside her. “Oh, that would be so much fun!” she enthused. “What you got me already is great, though. It’s so comfortable!” That was because it was mostly loose-fitting clothes like t-shirts, sweatshirts, and pajama pants. “How did you know what sizes to get?”

Elena blushed faintly remembering her ‘sizing session’ with Stefan. “Oh, we just guessed,” she demurred.

When it came to shopping, Shoshana reminded Elena of Caroline—compare, contrast, study, discard, go back, rearrange, all with a sharp eye for details and a sense for a good bargain that one wouldn’t necessarily expect. It was a little exhausting for Elena, who was more of the ‘Will this work? Get it. Done’ school of shopping; but she took note of the styles Shoshana liked, for future reference.

“Here, I brought up some more veggies,” Elena said, setting a plate on the desk. “Everything’s fine downstairs.” She had excused herself from the shopping marathon—during which exactly _three_ things had been bought, so Damon’s credit rating was safe for now—on the pretense of checking the rest of the house and bringing Shoshana more food. The other girl had pretty much eaten continuously since she’d gotten up, it seemed. Elena blamed stress.

“Oh, thanks,” Shoshana told her, sounding a bit distracted. She rubbed her forehead above her eyebrows as though massaging it.

“Are you okay?” Elena asked worriedly. She would’ve expected her stomach would start bothering her, not her head.

“Just a headache,” Shoshana said, frowning.

“Maybe you’ve been staring at the computer for too long,” Elena suggested. “You want some aspirin or something?”

“No, that wouldn’t help. But thanks,” Shoshana added, forcing a smile to her face. “Maybe you’re right about the computer, though. Maybe I’ll sit on the couch and read a little.”

“It’s kind of stuffy in here,” Elena noticed. “Why don’t I open a window—“ She saw the other girl’s look of panic. “It’s really nice out,” she tempted. “And—well—a closed window isn’t going to stop a vampire.”

Shoshana laughed suddenly, conceding the point, and Elena opened the window, letting some fresh air into the room. When she turned back the other girl was sitting on the couch, handling the phone Damon had left for her. “I’m not very good with technology,” she confessed. “Can you show me how to text someone?”

“Sure,” Elena agreed, hanging over the back of the couch. She was tired of being cooped up in this room for the last few hours. “Who do you want to text?” Locally she only knew Stefan and Damon, of course, but the thought had occurred to Elena that she might try to contact someone she knew in Vancouver.

“Damon,” Shoshana responded. “Can you—ask him if he’s still coming home at two.” She closed her eyes and rubbed them with the heels of her hands.

“I could get you some ice, for your headache,” Elena offered, typing the message in.

“That might help,” Shoshana agreed, sounding fatigued.

Elena returned the phone to her. “Okay, I sent it. I’ll get you some ice.” When she came back into the room five minutes later, Shoshana was staring at the phone with tears in her eyes. “Oh my G-d, what’s wrong?” Elena asked, thinking Damon must’ve said something horrible in response.

“He says they’re running late!” she replied. “He might not be back until two-thirty!”

Elena failed to understand why this was so distressing to the other girl. “Here, lie back and put this on your forehead,” she suggested instead, indicating the ice pack.

Shoshana did so. “Oh yes, I think that feels better,” she said, but Elena sensed it might have been just for her benefit. “Would you mind getting me a blanket, please?”

Elena pulled one off the foot of the bed and brought it back. “Do you want me to shut the window?” she asked worriedly. “Is it too cold?”

Shoshana pulled the blanket tightly around herself and readjusted the ice pack. “Oh no, it’s fine, it’s nice to have fresh air.”

“Can I get you anything else?” A headache wasn’t so bad on its own, but for all Elena knew it was a symptom of something worse related to this ‘source’ business, or the start of a nervous breakdown. “Maybe some tea—sometimes caffeine helps with migraines.”

“I love tea, thank you,” Shoshana told her, excruciatingly polite. She seemed embarrassed by her sudden discomfort—odd, considering she hadn’t been embarrassed by more dramatic things before—and Elena smiled at her encouragingly.

“I do, too,” she agreed. “I’ll go make some for both of us.” On her way downstairs she called Stefan. “Where are you guys?” she asked when he answered.

His voice was low and tense. “ _We’re at the bank. Damon has to sign some things_.” He sighed in frustration. “ _It’s taking longer than we thought, and he’s getting impatient and rude. Which is_ not _making things go faster_.”

“I’m sorry,” Elena sympathized, putting some mugs of water in the microwave. “Shoshana’s just getting a little anxious—she nearly cried when—“

“ _Well good then_ ,” Stefan interrupted her suddenly. “ _Glad you guys are getting along so well. We’ll see you later._ ” He hung up.

Elena knew Stefan well enough to not be miffed by this odd behavior. But she _was_ quite confused. A moment later her phone buzzed with a text from him.

_Sorry, didn’t want D to overhear,_ it read. _You were saying?_

Elena felt foolish for not having thought of that. But did he mean Damon would feel _bad_ about Shoshana being upset? Or would he gloat obnoxiously about it? _Sorry_ , she texted back. _Sh has headache, almost cried when D said would be late. Hasn’t left room._

_Watch her_ , Stefan replied cryptically. _Home soon. Gotta go._

Shaking her head Elena carried the two mugs of tea upstairs. Shoshana had a microwave in her room; Elena could’ve just used that—but she didn’t realize she wasn’t supposed to let the other girl out of her sight.

Shoshana was still reclining on the couch under her blanket and ice pack when Elena reentered the room. She sat up a little on the couch to accept the tea. “Thank you,” she told Elena with sincerity. “I’m sorry I’m such a bother,” she confessed, staring down into her tea. “You’ve really done so much already, with the clothes and the books and everything, and I know I’m not the… most fun person to be around, so…”

“No,” Elena said firmly, giving Shoshana an impulsive hug. “Don’t worry about any of that. I’m really glad to meet you, Shoshana.”

“Really?” she asked with a tentative smile.

“ _Really_ ,” Elena insisted, and she meant it. “How’s your headache?”

“Oh, it’s—“ She sighed. “It just happens sometimes when I don’t—take care of myself,” she finished vaguely.

Elena nodded understandingly. “You’ve been under a lot of stress lately,” she observed. “You should try to relax. Lean back and drink your tea.”

Shoshana curled up on her side on the couch so she could still sip her tea while resting the ice against her forehead. Elena tucked the blanket around her. She was about to offer to leave the room so Shoshana could have some quiet, but then she remembered Stefan’s dictum to ‘watch her,’ so she sat down in a chair nearby and started flipping through a magazine while drinking her tea.

For a while everything was quiet and Elena hoped the other girl had fallen asleep—but her breathing was too erratic and her jaw was clenched tight, even though her eyes were closed. Elena frowned, not sure what else she could do—Bonnie got migraines sometimes, maybe she would have some advice. Maybe there was an anti-migraine spell she could come up with.

A movement on the couch caught Elena’s eye and she glanced over to see Shoshana pulling out her phone. She pressed a few keys and held it up to her ear. “When are you coming home?” she asked into it tearfully a moment later.

She could only be talking to Damon, but Elena didn’t know why she’d _want_ to—the man had done nothing but terrorize her and she wanted him to come _home_? Elena tried to remember what she’d been taught about abusive relationships in health class—it seemed like there was something about strange psychological dependencies that developed. That would make sense here.

Elena’s phone buzzed with a text message from Stefan. It read, _Take her phone._

“You said two, then two-thirty, now _three_?” Shoshana was saying, barely containing her sobs. “How could you just leave me here—“ She sat up suddenly, icepack tumbling to the floor, and her voice turned angry. “Do _not_ throw that back at me—“

Elena’s eyes widened in surprise at the sudden show of temper from Shoshana, who had been so mild up to this point. Her phone buzzed again. _TAKE HER PHONE NOW_ , Stefan ordered.

She stood up. “Um, Shoshana, maybe you should really—“ What was she going to do, snatch the phone from her hand?

“Fine, I’ll take care of it myself,” Shoshana snapped at Damon. “I’m used to that.” She hung up and tossed the phone to the end of the couch, then buried her face in her hands and started to sob in earnest.

Elena sat down beside her and put her arm around her. Okay, the girl was a mess. But who could blame her? Twenty-four hours ago she was living her normal life, going to school, seeing her parents and friends, trying to forget about all the bad things she’d seen, and now she was back in the middle of a nightmare. Her parents were dead, there were creatures nearby who wanted to make her life miserable, and even in this supposed ‘safe’ place her protector wasn’t exactly kind and considerate. She was probably in shock over everything.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Elena told her. She was determined to _make_ it be okay for the other girl, somehow. She knew what it was like to have her whole world turned upside-down and to lose people she cared about, and she remembered how her friends had been there for her. Some days they were all that pulled her through. “Shh, it’ll be okay.”

Gradually Shoshana quieted down, leaning heavily on Elena. “I’m sorry,” she said in a small voice.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” Elena told her fiercely.

“I should be stronger,” Shoshana insisted. “I used to be stronger…”

“No, you’re fine,” Elena countered soothingly, not exactly certain what she was talking about.

Shoshana sniffed a few more times and rubbed her forehead again. The headache had not, apparently, gone away. She pulled away from Elena. “I’m just going to go to the bathroom.”

Elena let her go then went to check her phone. It had buzzed several times in the last few minutes but she’d felt like comforting Shoshana was more important. It was a string of texts from Stefan, asking what was going on. _Not okay_ , she texted back. _Very upset. D is a-s._

_Agreed_ , Stefan replied. _Thanks for helping. Sorry._

_No more sorry_ , she told him, thinking of Shoshana as well. _She’s my friend. I want to help._

_I know. Love you. Home soon_ , he promised.

_Love you._

Glancing at the closed bathroom door, Elena gave her another few minutes, then drifted closer. “Shoshana? Stefan said they’d be home soon. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I just—“ There was a sound of rushing water, like the bathtub faucet had been turned on.

“Are you going to take a shower?” Elena asked her, slightly confused. “Do you need some clothes?”

“No, I’m fine, I—“ Something about her voice sounded strange, like she was in pain.

“Shoshana? I want to come in,” Elena announced, an instinctive fear gripping her.

“No, wait, just give me a minute—“

Elena pushed the door open anyway. Shoshana was kneeling on the floor, leaning into the bathtub, rinsing her arms under the rushing water. There was a pair of scissors on the edge of the tub. And the water flowing down the drain was tinged with red.

Elena went to her immediately and pulled her arms away. They were covered in fresh cuts that oozed blood freely. “Oh my G-d,” Elena breathed, staring at them in horror.

“No, I just—“ Shoshana tried to explain, but Elena’s mind was already racing through the 911 call for attempted suicide.

Then she heard the door downstairs and her relief left her staggering. She didn’t want to let Shoshana go so she just turned away and shouted, “Stefan!”

He appeared almost instantly, then stumbled as he saw and smelled the fresh blood. It suddenly occurred to Elena that maybe he hadn’t been the best person to call in this case.

Damon was right behind him, cool and nonchalant. “Ooh, naughty girl,” he chided, kneeling down beside her. “All that yummy blood, down the drain.” He took one arm from a dumbfounded Elena and bit into it above one of the larger cuts. Shoshana closed her eyes and swayed woozily against him.

It couldn’t be right, Elena thought, looking at the scene. “Stefan—“ When she turned he was gone. Damon gave her a pointed look as he noisily enjoyed Shoshana’s blood, making her want to leave the room— quickly.

The front door was ajar and she found Stefan sitting on the stoop dejectedly. With a sigh she sat down next to him and wrapped her arm around him, leaning her head on his shoulder.

“Something in her blood builds up, gives her headaches if it’s not released,” he told her quietly. “She can be bitten, or she can just… cut herself. That’s what she’d do if she wasn’t with Damon.”

“It’s _good_ that he drinks her blood, then?” Elena surmised. “Good for her, I mean.”

“I guess so. In a sense.” He looked off into the distance for a moment. “I wasn’t very helpful to you today. I’m sorry.”

She squeezed his arm. “No more sorry,” she reminded him lightly. “To be honest, I would rather be here with Shoshana, while _you_ are out with Damon.” Stefan smirked a little at that; she could tell the few hours they’d been gone had been frustrating for him. “What were you guys doing, anyway?”

“Mostly setting up stuff for Shoshana,” Stefan revealed. “Putting her on a bank account, for example.”

Elena blinked in surprise. “Really?”

Stefan nodded. “Damon’s hoping she’ll be here for a while.”

She shook her head, mystified. “I don’t see… It’s not healthy.”

“They have a lot of history,” Stefan reminded her. “There’s a lot of anger built up, on both sides. But a lot of love, too.”

“I’ve missed that part so far,” Elena noted dryly, and he smiled a little.

“Understandable,” he agreed. “It might not show up for a while. They have a—“

“I know, I know,” she told him.

“It’s complicated,” Damon supplied from behind them. He bounced lightly over the threshold and sat down beside Elena.

“How’s Shoshana?” she asked.

“She’s fine, she’s taking a little nap.” He leaned around her to look at Stefan. “Did you explain about the ‘bad blood’?” he asked, and Stefan nodded. “Well, it was my own fault,” Damon went on, and Elena swiveled to stare at him, because he never took responsibility for _anything_. “I should’ve bitten her this morning, but I thought I’d be _nice_ and let her sleep. Won’t make _that_ mistake again,” he added pointedly, and Elena rolled her eyes. “Oh, she said she liked you.”

“What?” Elena asked suspiciously.

“’I like Elena. She’s nice,’” Damon said in a high-pitched tone that was obviously supposed to imitate Shoshana. “So that’s good. When are you going to invite some more galpals over and introduce them?”

Elena stared at him, knowing she shouldn’t still be surprised by his lack of sensitivity. “She’s _kind of_ a mess right now,” she pointed out.

“She’s always like that,” Damon claimed.

“No, she’s not,” Stefan countered.

“Okay, I can see how slicing her own arms open would leave a bad impression,” Damon allowed, “but she doesn’t usually do that in front of people.”

“She didn’t leave a bad impression,” Elena contradicted him. “I like her, too. She’s _much_ too nice for you.”

Stefan smirked at this remark, and Damon’s predictable reaction was a verbal jab at him. “You know, if you have a bite, you won’t crave it so much,” he told his brother, and immediately Stefan looked guilty about his earlier behavior. “She won’t mind. You know how she loves to feed people. It doesn’t even really count as drinking _human_ blood, because it doesn’t hurt her. It helps, actually—“

“Stop talking about it,” Stefan told him, having been getting increasingly uncomfortable as Damon spoke.

Now it was Damon’s turn to smirk, his mission accomplished. “Oh, don’t get all mopey,” he chastised, even though that had been his purpose. “Say, you can atone for your sins by making that chicken thing she likes for dinner tonight.” With that task delegated he hopped up and sauntered back inside, knowing he was probably leaving them loathing him out on the doorstep. But he didn’t care. Neither of them had it in them to truly hate him—that much was obvious, with everything he’d done.

Damon practically floated back up the stairs to Shoshana’s bedroom. Her blood was delicious; he could feel the power thrumming through him and recklessly wished for a vampire attack so he could try out his rekindled strength. He didn’t feel guilty about the wish; he knew from long experience that his wishes had no effect on the events of the world.

Shoshana was curled up on her bed, his jacket and a blanket draped over her. Her back was to him but he knew she wasn’t asleep just yet—her shoulders tensed as he approached the bed. He veered away and headed for the open window instead, shutting and locking it firmly.

“You should keep the windows closed,” he told her. “If anyone’s lurking around the property they might smell you.” She curled up even tighter on the bed at this warning, her head slipping below the collar of his jacket.

Damon walked back around and slid onto the mattress behind her, wrapping his arms around her. “There’s supposed to be a human living here, to protect the house,” she mumbled from under the black leather.

“We’re between humans at the moment,” he replied lightly. “We’ve been meaning to get another one, but Stefan has this thing about putting people in danger.”

“Is Elena mad at me?” Shoshana wanted to know.

Damon pressed closer against her, his face grazing her hair and ear. “No, she’s not mad. She likes you. She wants you to meet some of her friends.”

“Really?” The hope in her voice was painful.

“Yes, really.” He brushed her hair aside, his fingers trailing across the back of her neck, and he watched the small hairs there rise in response. “And Stefan offered to make that chicken thing you like for dinner.”

“I like being cooked for,” she admitted.

“I’m sorry I got home late,” he whispered in her ear, his lips just touching her skin. “I should’ve bitten you before I left. I’ll take better care of you, I promise.”

“I don’t want to be here,” she said distinctly.

“I know,” he agreed, without concern. He pressed his luck and placed a light kiss on the back of her neck.

“I don’t like being scared all the time.”

“You’ll get stronger.” Another kiss. He could feel the blood pulsing under the thin flesh.

Her breath hitched, but not in the right way. “I miss—“

“Don’t start,” he warned her, his tone firm but not mocking. “Humans are fragile. They pass away. You don’t belong with them.” How many times had they had that conversation? They could do it in shorthand now. And neither would change the other’s mind, not if they talked for all eternity. But that was Damon’s point: they _could_ still be talking about it for all eternity, while all the humans they’d known passed away before them. There was no point in getting attached.

“I think you like Elena,” Shoshana said, and Damon rolled his eyes behind her back. Of course she would pick up on _that_.

“It’s my belief she will eventually be turned,” he replied, businesslike, as if that were all there was to it. “And she’s around a lot. I have to learn to tolerate her.”

“She really loves Stefan,” she commented, and he could hear the smile in her voice. He closed his eyes briefly, envisioning it on her face; he knew if he tried to look for real it would vanish immediately.

“They’re disgusting together,” he assured her.

“Does it bother you?” she asked quietly. “That she looks like Katherine, and is with Stefan.”

He froze behind her and was sure she could feel it. “Ah ah ah,” he warned after a moment. “If we’re not going to have sex, we can’t talk about anything serious.”

“That’s an interesting rule,” she decided, but she didn’t press the issue. “Fine. I’m going to sleep.”

“I was hoping you would say we could have sex,” he countered with mock disappointment. Well, he really _did_ want to have sex with her, but he didn’t expect her to give in this fast. She had those annoying _principles_ that had to be worn down first. Shoshana huffed but let him have the last word.


	4. Chapter 4

In the middle of the night Shoshana awoke, cold and stiff, at the kitchen table, her head resting on her arms. She was disoriented for a long moment—she hadn’t been in this part of the house for a long time, and it had changed just enough to make her question her sanity. Of course, when she’d gone to sleep that night she’d been in her bed, in her room—but she had a good idea of who was to blame for the change in venue.

She stood and went to the work area of the kitchen, feeling the coolness of the countertops and stainless steel appliances—all state-of-the-art, naturally, no expense spared to make the kitchen luxurious and modern. Obviously Damon had won the coin toss on the last remodel; Stefan would’ve tried to restore the historical authenticity, at least in appearance—a period wooden cabinet hiding the dishwasher, for example. Either way, she would’ve suggested a little more color; the boys tended towards neutral palettes themselves, but since _they_ didn’t spend much time in the kitchen—

There was a creak, a loud, deliberate one, and Shoshana clutched the edge of the counter, her heart rate speeding up. It was only Damon. She _knew_ it was only Damon. She knew his game, she knew his purpose, she knew he wouldn’t really hurt her—not really—but a little—and those around her—

She turned around slowly, black spots of panic already dancing in front of her eyes, and in the darkness beyond the doorway—something moved. Or was it her imagination? It didn’t have to be Damon—it could be a human intruder, or another vampire—

Shoshana started to walk towards the other doorway, the one with a bit of light outside it, and she tried to do so calmly, though her heart pounded and her muscles were stiff from holding herself to a walk. But when she was almost there she heard another creak behind her, right behind her, and she took off like a shot, thumping through the dark hallway in her bare feet, aiming for the stairs and her room.

There was new furniture in the house; she clipped the edge of a table painfully. It wobbled and should have fallen but didn’t, and when she glanced back at it she rammed into something else, a chair, and toppled over it awkwardly. Shoshana and the chair both crashed to the floor with a noise like a shotgun blast in the silent house.

She sat back up and rubbed her bruised knee, the urgency of her flight momentarily forgotten, tears of pain and frustration springing to her eyes. Then she looked up and saw—a creature, watching her, its body in shadow, eyes glowing in the faint moonlight, perched unnaturally on the banister of the staircase like a gargoyle. As she stared it started to growl and shifted as if to pounce and she scrambled to her feet, injuries forgotten as the adrenaline flooded her system again.

This time Shoshana headed for the front door, barely noticing what she bounced off of en route. She hit the doorframe, too scared to slow down before she got there, and turned the knob, wrenching the door open. A sweet burst of cool night air wafted past her face and then the door was slammed shut, the knob ripped from her hand.

“Don’t go outside,” a voice snarled in her ear, hot breath on her skin and ghostly fingers grazing her arms.

She ran again, down another hallway, through another door, losing track of where she was—it was a large house, old, not all built at once, and the rooms had been redecorated and repurposed since she’d seen them last. She turned in one direction and a dark figure loomed in the doorway; she ran in another and hands brushed across her hips, letting her know they could squeeze and catch her if they wanted to. She might as well have been blind in the dark house, for all that she was processing the dim images her eyes saw.

Then she hit the living room again and saw, unmistakably, Elena standing at the foot of the stairs. She’d forgotten anyone else in the world even existed, and the sight was so startling that finally, Shoshana screamed. She tried to brake herself before she hit the other girl, slipped, and sat down hard on the wooden floor, knocking the wind out of her lungs.

Something dark flew over her head and crashed into the bookshelves on the opposite wall, and Elena screamed and dropped down beside Shoshana, their arms around each other instinctively. Another dark shape vaulted down from the second floor and tackled the first one, but Shoshana was too stunned to care at this point.

“F-----g get off me!” Damon snapped, in a recognizable tone, and Elena—admirably cool-headed—switched on the nearest light.

Damon lay in a heap on the floor, surrounded by fallen books, with Stefan disentangling himself from the same pile. “What the h—l do you think you’re doing?” Stefan demanded of his brother.

“What the h—l do _you_ think I’m doing?” Damon shot back, sitting up. “I’m chasing her!” His tone was utter indignation.

“Shoshana, are you okay?” Elena asked, checking on the other girl. Her breathing was labored and her eyes glassy. “Shoshana? It’s okay, come here.” She wrapped her arms around her carefully.

“I thought you were—from Pearl,” Stefan sighed, sitting back on the floor.

“I _told_ you I was going to chase her tonight,” Damon reminded him, as though _he_ had done nothing wrong.

“Why were you chasing her?” Elena snapped at Damon. Then she turned a harsh gaze on her boyfriend. “And why did _you_ know about it?” Which meant, why didn’t you stop it?

Damon recognized her intent immediately and grinned. “Uh-oh, someone’s in the doghouse now!” he taunted his brother.

“Shut up!” Elena told him sharply. Damon curled his lip back and growled at her, and Stefan threw a book at him, hard. That was when Shoshana finally burst into tears. “Shh, shh, shh, it’s okay,” Elena said, rocking her. “Are you hurt?” She didn’t answer, so Elena rubbed her back and repeated her question to Damon. “Why were you chasing her?”

Damon blinked as though it should be obvious. “Well, it’s—it’s what I _do_.” He dropped onto all fours and started crawling towards the girls, slow and sinuous, like a panther. “She’s just so much fun to chase,” he purred in a low voice, and Shoshana reacted immediately, pushing herself to her feet with wide eyes.

“Don’t let her run,” Stefan warned Elena, then grabbed Damon’s shoulder. “Stop it.”

“Like _you_ don’t want to chase her,” Damon remarked, sounding rather put out as he sat back down. He leaned over to whisper in Stefan’s ear. “Look at them.” The two girls stood at the foot of the stairs, Elena hugging Shoshana and speaking to her soothingly. “We could chase them both,” Damon tempted. “I think they’d like it. They’re very… _cozy_ together, aren’t they?”

Stefan tore his gaze away from the two girls embracing—which was more difficult than he would admit to—and gave Damon a dark look. “Sometimes you are so evil I want to take a shower after talking to you.”

“Is evil water-soluble?” Damon asked without missing a beat. “Or do you need a special soap?”

Stefan decided not to answer, instead standing as the two girls started up the staircase. “ _We’re_ going to bed,” Elena said fiercely. The definite impression was that they were going to be sharing one, with no one else.

“Good,” Damon called after them, hopping to his feet. “Get to know each other. Become friends. Let us know when you’re ready for the next player.”

Stefan whacked his arm, which Damon barely noticed, so engaged was he in staring after the girls and thinking all kinds of dark and twisted thoughts (undoubtedly). “Help me clean up,” Stefan redirected, expecting to be blown off.

“Okay,” Damon answered, to Stefan’s surprise. And then, to his even _greater_ surprise, Damon actually started picking up the books. “What?” Damon asked defensively, when Stefan stared at him. “Shoshana doesn’t like the house to be messy.”

Stefan just shook his head and decided to take what he could get. “You said you were going to chase her _quietly_ ,” he reminded his brother.

Damon shoved some books back onto the shelf. “Yeah, well, I did my best. She didn’t scream until Elena showed up.”

“Elena didn’t show up until she heard things _breaking_ ,” Stefan countered.

“I moved all the furniture around, took up the rugs,” Damon pointed out, clearly considering this a thoughtful gesture, “and she _still_ managed to run into everything.”

“Is she going to have a nightmare tonight?” Stefan wanted to know.

“She had one already,” Damon replied. “Should be quiet for her snuggle time with Elena.”

“Stop thinking about it,” Stefan advised him, trying to do the same himself.

“You know, it’s really not fair,” Damon began, and Stefan knew exactly where he was going with this. “You’ve had them both, and I’ve only had one…”

Stefan dumped a load of books unceremoniously into Damon’s arms. “I am too tired to put up with your c—p,” he stated, heading for the stairs. “Finish cleaning up yourself.”

“You wouldn’t be tired if you bit her!” Damon called after him. “Look at me, not tired at all,” he added to himself, watching in fascination as his hands rearranged the books with dizzying speed. “Not at all.”

 

The girls were talking in bed the next morning when there was a knock on the door. Warily Elena responded, “Come in,” then relaxed when she saw it was only Stefan, carrying a tray of breakfast for them.

“Good morning,” he said cautiously. He wasn’t sure if Elena was still mad at him, but her smile seemed to indicate she wasn’t.

“Good morning,” she replied, sitting up more.

“Good morning!” Shoshana added, with genuine cheer.

Stefan set the tray down carefully on the bed and let them distribute the food while he settled at the foot, leaning back against the bedpost. “Did you make these, Stefan?” Shoshana asked, indicating the pancakes piled in front of them. “Stefan makes the _best_ pancakes.”

“I know,” Elena agreed warmly. “Ooh, I’ve never tried his omelet before,” she added, reaching for half of the cheese-oozing egg creation.

“Actually, Damon made the omelet,” Stefan corrected lightly, and Elena hesitated, more at the name than the idea of eating his cooking.

Ironically Shoshana had no such reservations about it. “Damon makes the _best_ omelets,” she declared happily, digging in.

Stefan watched them eat for a few minutes, enjoying the moment too much to interrupt it. He hadn’t been worried about Elena and Shoshana getting along; he knew they would love each other. But he found himself appreciating Elena even more, seeing how protective she was of the other girl while Shoshana found her footing. The way she stood up to Damon… and the way he backed down before her. That told Stefan that his brother cared about Elena in a deeper way than he would admit to—and to Stefan that was good news. Damon caring about someone other than himself was something to celebrate, even if that someone was Stefan’s girlfriend.

But sooner or later reality had to intrude.

“So what are you planning to do today?” Stefan asked, keeping his tone light.

“I need to go home,” Elena sighed. “Jenna’s already left a guilt-inducing voicemail for me, and I have homework…” Stefan nodded sympathetically. He was amazed Elena’s aunt let her spend as much time with him as she did, frankly. And he had homework, too. “I was wondering,” she went on carefully, “if Shoshana would like to hang out at my house today. I mean, I’d be doing homework and stuff, but you could bring some books or…”

Shoshana’s eyes lit up like she’d been offered a trip to Disneyland. But after she’d thought about it a minute the expression faded to match the one on Stefan’s face, of regret. “I don’t think Damon would let me go,” she decided.

Stefan agreed. But he knew the idea would get Elena riled up, so he said nothing. “You can’t let Damon dictate your life!” she declared. “What’s he going to do if you just march up to him and tell him you’re going out for the day?”

Her tone suggested this question was rhetorical, but Shoshana and Stefan knew otherwise. “Uh, carry me back up to my room and lock me in,” Shoshana pointed out.

Elena looked to Stefan for support. “You would’ve made a wonderful suffragette,” he told her sincerely, which was not exactly what she’d been looking for. “I think the only way he’d allow her to leave right now was if _he_ came, too,” Stefan went on, “which I don’t think was what you had in mind.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Elena agreed pertly.

“Maybe,” he began, an idea forming, “he would let Jenna and Jeremy come over for dinner tonight.”

Both girls perked up at this idea. “Really?” asked Shoshana hopefully.

He didn’t want to get her too excited in case Damon, for his own twisted reasons, vetoed the plan. But on the surface there was nothing he could object to. “He _did_ say he wanted to introduce you to some of our friends.”

Shoshana was perhaps the only person Stefan knew who could sincerely squeal with delight without sounding precious or forced. He jerked forward with sudden speed to catch the breakfast tray she almost overturned in her excitement. “I’ll cook a _wonderful_ dinner,” she promised, squeezing Elena’s hand. “What do they like to eat? Do they have any dietary restrictions?”

Elena laughed pleasantly at the other girl’s good humor. “No, they’ll eat anything. Don’t go to any trouble, we can even order out.”

“No, no, no, I want to cook,” Shoshana insisted, already planning the menu in her head. “Do you have any cookbooks?” she asked Stefan.

“ _How to Serve Man_ ,” said a sardonic voice from the doorway, and they turned to see Damon lounging there. He didn’t venture any closer, however, even when he saw Shoshana’s eyes flicker up and down his frame in a not altogether dispassionate way.

“I’ll need someone to go to the store,” she told him coolly. “That seems like a good job for _you_.”

“Ooh, sassy,” he replied with a smirk. “Must’ve been the ham I put in your omelet.”

“There’s no ham in it,” Stefan assured her quickly when she looked suddenly upset. “There’s no ham in the house.”

Shoshana glared at Damon and he grinned as he turned to leave. “Make me a list,” he called over his shoulder.

The other three glanced at each other in hopeful confusion. “That was easy,” Elena observed. But was it _too_ easy?

 

Stefan didn’t _have_ to drive Elena home; it was her own car, after all. But he enjoyed doing it, and it gave them a chance to talk without being overheard by anyone. And Elena had plenty to say about Damon that wasn’t really suitable for either him _or_ Shoshana to hear. Stefan was easily able to run back to the boarding house afterwards.

“I’m home,” he announced, perhaps unnecessarily, when he returned.

“Finally!” Damon groused. “She’s been adding to the grocery list the whole time. I’m gonna have to back a truck up to deliver it all.” Stefan didn’t think he could be _too_ upset, though, since he was gazing at Shoshana’s rear end as she dug in the kitchen cabinets.

“I _need_ a caramelizing torch!” she declared in exasperation. “Why is there no caramelizing torch?”

“We’re vampires. We don’t like having little fire-guns around,” Damon informed her.

She sat back up on her knees. “Well, I need one,” she decided.

“Whatever,” he dismissed. Stefan interpreted that as, ‘I’ll get you one but I want you to think I won’t.’

“What are you fixing for dinner?” Stefan asked her politely.

“I thought I’d keep it simple,” she replied. “Steak medallions, garlic mashed potatoes, zucchini bread, and caramelized bananas for dessert.”

Stefan raised an eyebrow and glanced at Damon, who was rolling his eyes. “All made from scratch, naturally,” Damon added sarcastically.

“Do you think bread _and_ potatoes will be too much starch?” Shoshana worried. “It’s hard to know what vegetables people will eat. I was going to start with a spinach-and-strawberry salad, but—“

“I told her guys don’t eat that,” Damon cut in. “Especially not teenage guys.”

“Yes, you’re such a gastronomic authority,” Stefan remarked dryly. “It sounds great,” he added to Shoshana encouragingly. “I think they’ll really like it.” She beamed at him.

“Well, I better go,” Damon decided, standing, “if you want this food in time for dinner tonight. Just to make sure it’s clearly understood—neither of you leaves this house, got it?” He fixed both Stefan and Shoshana with a serious look. “I mean it. Don’t even go out on the patio.”

“Don’t you think you’re being a little paranoid?” Stefan asked reasonably.

“No.” He pulled Shoshana to her feet. “C’mere, I want a snack before I go. In case I’m gone awhile.”

Stefan stayed in the kitchen and busied himself washing the dishes from breakfast while Damon and Shoshana went to the living room. “Where do you want me to bite you?” he asked her matter-of-factly.

“I don’t think it will be healed by tonight,” she worried, “so somewhere it won’t show.”

Predictably, he smirked. “I can think of several viable locations.”

“Upper arm,” she specified, giving him a look.

“Not what I had in mind,” he admitted with disappointment, sitting down on the couch. “Well, come here.” He patted his lap.

She frowned. “I don’t really—“

“Oh come on,” he scoffed. “You want me to break my neck working at a weird angle? One leg on either side. Come on.”

With a sigh Shoshana did as she was told, rolling her eyes disdainfully as Damon enjoyed himself a little too much getting her properly situated. He pulled her close and murmured in her ear, “You gonna be okay with Stefan?”

“Yes, of course,” she told him in irritation, uncomfortably resting her hands on his shoulders. Her muscles were tense as she kept him at a slight distance.

“I might run some errands after I bring back the groceries,” he warned her.

“In that case, bring me more eggs, milk, and butter,” she told him quickly, and he sighed as if that was _not_ what he was getting at.

“Fine. Roll up your sleeve.” She did so, holding her breath as his fangs punctured her skin. After a moment they retracted and his lips curved over her flesh, sucking the oozing blood without spilling a drop. If she closed her eyes she could almost imagine he was kissing her, albeit obsessively in one spot, and she had to stop herself from giving in and sliding her fingers across the back of his neck.

After a minute or two she started to feel a little lightheaded and made a noise of warning. He answered back with a grunt of acknowledgement but kept going until she started to wobble above him. Then he finally pulled his mouth away, with great reluctance, and pressed a cloth tightly over the wound instead.

Shoshana collapsed against him dizzily and he rearranged her on his lap so she could rest. “I might be gone awhile,” he repeated. “I didn’t want you to get a headache. G-d knows I couldn’t rely on Stefan to take care of it,” he added snidely.

She leaned her head against his chest, over the spot where she should’ve heard a heartbeat. “Thanks for letting them come over for dinner tonight,” she told him, her eyes still closed.

“I want you to be happy here,” he replied simply, and she knew that somehow, he was utterly sincere. “But first I want you to be strong.” And they both knew what that entailed.

She sighed and said nothing, just focusing on the way her head seemed to bob on the sea while her body stayed in place, held steady by his arms. After a moment, reluctantly, he moved, pulling the cloth away and placing a large bandage over the injury. He pressed his lips against her temple. “I have to go,” he told her. If he didn’t leave now he might never. “Lie down for a while.” Damon maneuvered himself out from under her and laid her out carefully on the couch, draping a blanket over her. Leaning down again he kissed her cheek, then moved for her lips.

Shoshana’s hand came up to his chest, stopping him. The look she gave him wasn’t hostile, but it wasn’t very welcoming, either. He decided to take that as a good sign.

 

An hour or so later Shoshana wandered into the kitchen to start preparing the meal, with Stefan happily drafted to help. Damon had dropped off the groceries and left again before she’d awakened, with barely a word; Stefan was suspicious about his unnamed ‘errands’ but frankly it was more peaceful without him lurking around the house, for both of them.

“So where’ve you been since I saw you last?” Stefan asked her conversationally, peeling the potatoes as directed. “That was New York City, 1975, I think.”

“I remember,” she smiled. The time in New York was _not_ pleasant; but Stefan always was. “I went south for a while—Florida, Texas, New Mexico. Then I decided I wanted a change of scenery and went to Canada. I’ve been there about ten years.”

“Always school?” he asked, glancing over to make sure the topic wasn’t upsetting her.

She nodded as she started shredding the zucchini. “I tried working some, but the kind of jobs you get right out of high school…” She wrinkled her nose. “I decided I would rather be in school. I’ve been in some really nice ones.”

“How do you keep finding people to take you in?” he marveled. “Especially these days… Damon and I could practically open our own forgery business with all the IDs and records we’ve faked lately.”

“I don’t know,” Shoshana admitted with a shrug. “Damon always said I had a knack for it.” She frowned. “He said something about Katherine being ‘back’?”

Stefan knew he shouldn’t have been surprised to realize Damon had told Shoshana precisely _nothing_ about the situation he’d brought her into—but he still was, a little bit. “It’s kind of a strange story,” he prefaced.

“Really,” Shoshana said dryly, which he smirked at.

“So, you know how we always thought Katherine had died in the church fire? Well, I should say _I_ always thought that, because as it turns out, Damon knew she was still alive. Er, you know what I mean,” Stefan explained. Concepts like life and death were a little fuzzier these days. “She had a maidservant named Emily, who was a witch—“

“Like Bree?” Shoshana remembered brightly.

“Yes, exactly.” Stefan hoped she didn’t notice his slight pause before replying. Add Bree to the list of ‘friends’ Damon had killed for his own purposes. “And Damon asked her to protect Katherine somehow. She used the power of the comet that was passing by to protect all the vampires in the church from the fire—they were sealed into an underground tomb. His plan was to wait until the comet came by again and use its power to open the tomb, releasing Katherine and all the others. The comet came back last year.” He glanced over and saw a strange expression on Shoshana’s face—perhaps something akin to discomfort. “Shoshana?”

“I… knew that,” she admitted quietly and Stefan blinked at her in surprise.

“You—Of course, he told you,” he realized. Not recently, but years ago, he could see from her face.

“I’m sorry, Stefan, he didn’t want me to tell you,” she apologized earnestly. “I didn’t think… Well, you weren’t exactly sad to see Katherine go, and his plan sounded so crazy, I…”

“No, of course,” he assured her. “It’s fine, of course you shouldn’t have said anything if he didn’t want you to…” Actually the etiquette here seemed a little complicated to him, but he could understand Shoshana not wanting to break Damon’s trust. “I just can’t believe he told you.”

“I’ve known for a long time that he planned to get Katherine back,” she confessed, keeping her eyes on her work. “I guess I thought maybe he was… warning me that we weren’t going to last.”

The full impact of her statement finally hit him. “I’m sorry, Shoshana,” Stefan told her. “I’m sorry my brother is such a b-----d.” To tell the woman you were with that she was only a temporary substitute for the woman you were _really_ waiting for? Kind of defined the behavioral aspect of the term in Stefan’s opinion.

Typically, Shoshana shrugged and smiled a little. “Well, sometimes I considered it a _good_ thing,” she insisted lightly. “That maybe I could… go on about my life once he had Katherine back.” She cleared her throat. “Anyway, so, I assume you guys got the tomb open, but things didn’t work out with Katherine?”

“We got the tomb open,” Stefan confirmed. “Although there were some complications”—that was putting it mildly—“but we finally did get it open. And then it turned out that Katherine wasn’t there.” Shoshana turned to stare at him. “Most of the other vampires were there—a couple dozen of them. But Katherine had snuck out before the fire—she’d never been trapped at all.”

“Well where was she this whole time?” Shoshana wanted to know, shocked.

“Anywhere she wanted to be,” Stefan told her. “She was free and she could’ve found Damon at any time—she just didn’t feel like it.”

Shoshana turned back to the counter, grating the zucchini in her hands viciously. “She just—But how could she—He _loved_ her!” she finally sputtered, facing Stefan again. He was surprised to see that she seemed to be _outraged_ —on Damon’s behalf. “He _died_ trying to protect her. And tried to make sure she would be safe—which none of her other associates who escaped bothered to do.”

“Well—Katherine’s _bad_ ,” was all Stefan could offer, feeling slightly Damon-like in his simplistic description. It seemed to be quite true, though. “She always manipulated everyone around her to get what she wanted. He claims she never compelled him, but I don’t know if that’s true. She certainly compelled _me_. But it was definitely a shock,” he agreed quietly.

“It must have broken his heart,” Shoshana decided, and her tone was genuinely sad.

_What heart?_ Stefan wanted to say, but the timing seemed inappropriate, and thus also Damon-like. He let the moment pass. “Pearl was the oldest of the tomb vampires, a friend of Katherine’s who’d come to Mystic Falls with her,” he went on. “She and some of the other vampires are staying in an old farmhouse just outside of town. We’re not really clear on her overall plan—something vague about making the town pay for trying to kill them all.”

“Weren’t they killing the townspeople first?” Shoshana checked.

“Well that’s vampire logic for you,” Stefan pointed out.

“Only _some_ vampires,” she corrected, indicating him.

He gave her a nod of thanks. “And then Katherine herself came back to town and muddied the waters even further… She looks just like Elena, so sometimes she tries to impersonate her and cause trouble.”

“That’s really weird,” Shoshana decided. Stefan’s look suggested that was actually the most _sensible_ part of the story.

“Anyway, there’s a lot of tension right now,” he understated. “I feel like we could reason with Pearl, but some of others are more vengeful. There’s been a few killings in town, although it’s been quiet for a while now. And I don’t know how Katherine fits into all this. If there _were_ open hostilities,” he added carefully, “there’s really only me and Damon, and Elena’s friend Bonnie—“

“Who’s also a witch,” Shoshana supplied.

“Right. A _young_ witch. But those are the only people who could _do something_ to resist.” He really, really didn’t want to use the word ‘fight.’ “Well, I guess that’s not completely true,” he amended. “It turns out the town leaders have been studying the journals left behind by their ancestors and they have a few weapons to fight vampires with—Damon and I had a couple close calls when we first came here.” He didn’t go into further detail on that, since Shoshana looked suddenly alarmed. “But I don’t know how effective they would really be against a large, organized group. And since all the tomb vampires are older than me and Damon—“

“And thus stronger,” Shoshana nodded. “Unless you have some kind of weapon of your own.” Meaning, of course, her.

Stefan couldn’t deny that had been Damon’s thought process exactly. “I hope it won’t come to a confrontation,” he said, without much confidence. “I think we need to talk to Pearl more, find out exactly what she has in mind. Maybe her plan is something we can all live with. She’s only really talked to Damon, and you can imagine how helpful he was at conveying the details to me,” he added, rolling his eyes.

Shoshana smiled a little, realizing he meant, ‘not very helpful at all.’ “But Katherine could be a problem,” she surmised, more soberly.

“She hasn’t changed,” Stefan agreed, darkness creeping into his tone. “She toys with people for her own entertainment and doesn’t care about the consequences. She’d destroy everything just for the sake of destroying it. Just to see it burn.” He tossed the last potato into the pot on the stove. “Maybe she and Damon belong together after all.”

Shoshana freed her hands and embraced Stefan suddenly. “I’m glad he brought me here to see you again,” she told him warmly. “I really missed you, Stefan.”

He patted her back lightly, finding the scent that rose from her skin to be more than a little distracting. “I missed you, too.” His nose started to twitch as he wondered where, exactly, Damon had bitten her, which kicked off a whole string of inappropriate thoughts he tamped down fiercely.

She noticed the tension in his body and loosened her hold on him, a confused look on her face. Stefan stepped away completely, disguising it by opening the refrigerator and reaching into it for a random object. “Should we start softening the—er—“ He looked at what he’d pulled out, which was a jar of pickles.

“Oh, I’m sorry, are you hungry?” Shoshana asked him in concern, which was just about the last thing he wanted to be thinking about right now. “Damon drank a lot but I don’t mind giving you a snack now if—“ She stopped in her tracks as Stefan backed away from her.

He hated to see the hurt expression on her face. “I’m not really ready to—“ he tried to explain. “I’ve been eating animals and—I’d rather not—“

“Oh, okay,” she replied, though he could tell she really didn’t fully understand. Quietly Shoshana went back to her work, waiting for Stefan to calm down, put the pickles away, and rejoin her. “So tell me about _Elena_ ,” she requested after a moment in a playful tone, laughing at the little smile that crept onto his face at the mention of her name.

“She’s very…” He always found himself uncharacteristically tongue-tied when it came to Elena; it wasn’t that he was embarrassed about his feelings, he just didn’t know where to begin. “She’s such a wonderful person. She’s compassionate and thoughtful and brave—“

“I know!” Shoshana agreed in admiration. “She’s _so sweet_. I was really _awful_ yesterday and she’s been so patient and kind.”

“You weren’t awful,” he countered. “But she _is_ patient and kind. I’m glad you like each other. Not that I really doubted you would,” he added with a grin.

“I have to ask, though,” she warned, and he knew what was coming. “It’s so obvious. The Katherine thing. You always said you never really loved her, but…”

“It’s not about that,” he assured her. “Well actually it _was_ —when I first saw Elena I spent a long time making sure she _wasn’t_ Katherine.”

Shoshana gave him a slightly skeptical look. “So you went up and talked to her—and she just _happened_ to be a wonderful person who’s perfectly suited to you?”

Stefan blinked at her, having forgotten how perceptive and direct Shoshana could be. It caught a lot of people off-guard, if they made the mistake of thinking she was somehow soft and insubstantial. “Well, I couldn’t _make_ her wonderful if she wasn’t before,” he pointed out.

“No, but you could hide parts of yourself that you thought she wouldn’t like.”

Stefan met her steady gaze, knowing she didn’t say these things to be mean, but rather because she was concerned about him—and Elena, too. “I don’t hide… much,” he claimed, feeling less than honest even as he said it. He focused on chopping the next vegetable she gave him. “I don’t want to scare her.” That was more accurate.

“You don’t want to scare her _off_ ,” Shoshana corrected, though in an inoffensive way.

He put his knife down and leaned against the counter, arms crossing over his chest in a slightly protective gesture. “Things are already so much more difficult for her now, because of me,” he pointed out. He didn’t feel the need to pull out his hundred-strong list of examples at the moment, though. “I don’t want to make her worry any more, about things I did in the past. Or still do,” he admitted painfully. “It’s reasonable that I don’t want her to see me kill someone. Even another vampire who’s dangerous to her.”

Shoshana knew there was a story behind _that_ comment, but now didn’t seem the appropriate time to ask for clarification. “But you can’t hide that you _can_ do it, or that you _have_ done it,” she added. “It’s part of you. And even if you don’t revel in it like Damon, you probably enjoy it a little bit.” His gaze flickered away guiltily, though she didn’t seem to mean it as a condemnation. “Even hunting rabbits or whatever—you shouldn’t pretend you don’t enjoy the chase, the taste, just because you think she might not like it.”

Stefan grimaced a little. “Chase, yes. Taste, eh… I actually don’t really eat rabbits,” he added with a wan smirk. “That’s just what Damon likes to say. Normally I go after bigger things like raccoons or bobcats.”

Shoshana smiled more warmly. “You should take Elena hunting with you sometime,” she suggested, and his eyebrows shot up. “It’s not just a hobby or something. It’s how you survive. I bet she would be really impressed to see you take down a bobcat.”

He couldn’t quite imagine the look on Elena’s face at that moment. But he wasn’t sure it would really be pleasant. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” he said delicately, “but when it comes to people revealing their vicious sides—maybe you have a skewed perspective.”

She laughed a little. “Well think of it this way: Damon’s _much_ more vicious than you are, so anything you do ought to look restrained by comparison.” And Stefan couldn’t argue with that.


	5. Chapter 5

Shoshana was in the dining room straightening the silverware she’d laid out on the table when Damon called. “Are you going to be home soon?” she asked him. “It’s almost dinnertime!”

“ _Do you have a headache?_ ” he asked in confusion.

“No. Why?”

“ _You said it was almost dinnertime._ ”

She rolled her eyes. “I _mean_ , Elena and her family will be here soon. Are you going to be home on time?”

Damon sounded doubtful. “ _Um, what time is it happening again?_ ”

“Damon!” Shoshana complained in exasperation. “I told you, it’s at six!”

“ _Ooh, well, I might squeak in, if I kick the speedometer up a few notches_ —“

“ _Why are you just sitting in here?_ ” asked Stefan’s voice over the phone.

“Stefan?” Shoshana asked in confusion.

“ _Go away!_ ” Damon hissed at him.

“Are you sitting in the garage talking to me?” Shoshana demanded in irritation.

“ _No_ ,” said Damon.

“Yes,” said Stefan, reappearing in the dining room and rolling his eyes at his brother’s juvenile antics. Shoshana made a noise of frustration and hung up the phone.

Damon sauntered past the doorway a moment later. “Hey, I’m home!” he announced, to no acclaim. He looked over the table and around the freshly-cleaned dining room, which didn’t normally see much action these days. “No need to ask what you’ve been doing all day,” he remarked. “You know, we’re only hosting a teenage druggie and an over-the-hill party girl, not the Queen.” Shoshana glared at him and adjusted the centerpiece defiantly. “What are you wearing to this beer bash?” he persisted.

Here at least she responded, with a frown. “Well, I’ll keep it casual, I guess,” she admitted. “Maybe I could make one of your shirts look okay with a pair of black sweatpants.” The pain in her voice made him smirk.

“Yeah, I guess Elena favored clothes by Granny’s Pajama Party,” he mocked.

“I _like_ what she picked out,” Shoshana defended. “It’s comfortable.”

“Oh, well, you don’t want this, then,” Damon teased.

Shoshana turned and saw that he was holding a pink dress, nice casual, with a matching cardigan. She abandoned the centerpiece and went for it. “Oh, it’s _so_ pretty,” she told him, turning it around. “Where did you get it?”

“I went to the mall in Neoga.” Looking past him she saw a collection of shopping bags on the floor. “I picked up a few other things for you,” he admitted.

Shoshana handed him back the dress and started to paw through the bags excitedly. Then she stopped herself, with great restraint. “No, I don’t have time right now,” she chided herself, much to Damon’s amusement. “I have to mix up the spread for the zucchini bread still, and I have to shower and get dressed!” She popped back up and retrieved the dress from him. “And so do you,” she added critically, looking him over.

“What?” asked Damon in confusion.

“I was going to let you boys wear whatever you wanted,” she explained, already heading upstairs, “but now that I have a pretty dress it raises the bar for you two.”

“ _What?_ ” Damon protested, following her. That was _not_ what he’d signed up for.

“No good deed,” Stefan taunted him as he went by. Though he didn’t know what Damon was complaining about, his brother generally enjoyed dressing up as long as it flattered his vanity.

A few minutes later Stefan sat on a couch in the living room, reading a magazine and listening to the argument upstairs. Shoshana had apparently disapproved of the ‘nice casual’ outfit Damon had come up with on his own and was now digging through his closet looking for something more appropriate.

“What’s wrong with this shirt?” Damon demanded. “It’s a nice shirt!”

“Try tucking it in,” Shoshana advised.

“It’s not supposed to tuck in!”

“Well, let’s find one that does. Hmm, how about this?”

“I don’t want to wear white,” Damon protested. “I always wear black. Look! Black! Nice shirt!”

“That is some sort of hootchie club shirt,” Shoshana judged, and Stefan smirked.

“It’s—Um—Well—So what?” Damon asked, when he realized he couldn’t deny this.

“You need something different for my dinner,” she told him. “Do you have a nice pair of khakis?”

“NO I DO NOT OWN KHAKIS.”

“There’s no need to be loud, I’m right here,” she reminded him. “Aha! This is very nice! A nice summer-weight navy blue. Ooh, you can wear it with this light blue shirt. Won’t you look smart? Like a Ralph Lauren ad.”

Incoherent sputtering met this remark, followed by, “Stefan! Stefan, did you hear what she said? Do you want me to look like a pretentious git?” he demanded of her.

“You _are_ a pretentious git,” Stefan muttered. How someone could manage to be both pompous _and_ sleazy, he didn’t know, but Damon was talented that way.

“I heard that,” Damon called down menacingly. “What are _you_ wearing?”

“Khakis,” Stefan replied innocently. “And a white shirt.”

“You’ll both look so _sharp_ ,” Shoshana said approvingly.

“I’ll show you _sharp_ ,” Damon muttered, but clearly he was losing this fight.

There was a slight pause in the fracas as Damon apparently began to change as directed. “Stefan, do you have a tie you could wear?” Shoshana inquired suddenly, leaning over the stair rail.

He grimaced slightly but didn’t let her see. Sometimes Shoshana got a little carried away with the social engagements—he was certain Jeremy would arrive in, at best, a clean-ish t-shirt and jeans without holes. “Yes, of course,” he answered instead, in an accommodating tone.

She went back to Damon’s room with determination in her voice. “Let’s try on some ties,” she told him.

“I WILL NOT WEAR A TIE,” Stefan heard. For once he hoped Damon won this particular skirmish.

“But you look so _elegant_ in a tie,” she flattered. “Very debonair.” It _almost_ worked. “Maybe this one, the little diamonds bring out your—“

“No, no, absolutely not,” Damon decided, putting his foot down. “You, madam, are no Heidi Klum.” There was a pause, and Stefan looked up as Damon’s voice was suddenly apologetic. “I didn’t mean you’re not beautiful, just that you don’t know about modern fashion—“

“ _What_ are you talking about?” Shoshana asked, mystified and not at all insulted. Stefan stifled a chuckle downstairs and went back to his magazine. “Who’s Heidi Klum?”

“Never mind,” Damon huffed. He seemed cowed by the near miss, however. “Which shoes should I wear?” Sometimes Stefan wondered which one of them was _really_ being held captive by the other. Sometimes.

 

Monday morning when she woke up, Elena had a text message from Stefan. _Come over for breakfast?_ it read.

She smiled and texted back. _Of course!_

He responded while she was getting dressed. _Missed you._

She dressed faster. _Missed you, too! Be there soon._

Stefan met her at the front door of the boarding house and gave her a hug. It was by no means unpleasant, but it wasn’t his usual behavior, either. Elena pulled back to look at him. “Okay, what happened last night?” she asked suspiciously. His expression told her she was right on target.

“Shoshana’s made you some stuffed French toast,” Stefan replied instead, not straying from the foyer. He lowered his voice a little. “But I don’t want you to be surprised when you see her.”

“ _What happened?_ ”

Stefan sighed and rubbed her arms, feeling the tension in them. “She ran into a door.”

“ _What?!_ ” This statement conjured up all sorts of abusive-relationship clichés in Elena’s mind—which seemed quite appropriate for the situation.

Sensing this Stefan hastened to add, “No, really, she ran into a door last night when he was chasing her.” As if that made everything suddenly _not_ Damon’s fault. “He stopped, he took care of her—“ The look on Elena’s face frightened him a little as she pushed past him and marched into the kitchen.

Damon glanced up from spooning the cream cheese mixture into the French toast, his expression indicating he knew he was in trouble. “Oh look, Elena’s here,” he said flatly, and Shoshana turned around.

Even with Stefan’s warning her appearance shocked Elena. One side of her face was a splotchy yellow and purple, and her eye was swollen. It _did_ look like the injury had somehow happened days earlier, though—evidence of her enhanced healing powers. Unfortunately it had reached the stage when it _looked_ the worst.

“I look awful, don’t I?” Shoshana said in despair.

Damon gave Elena a look that said, _Tell her she doesn’t!_ “No, it’s not that bad,” Elena lied, giving Shoshana a hug. Over her shoulder she mouthed ‘you b-----d’ at Damon, who rolled his eyes. “It’s fine, really,” she insisted, pulling back and making an encouraging face. Stefan nodded supportively.

Shoshana sniffled a little but chose to believe them. “I’m making you stuffed French toast for breakfast!” she announced to Elena, moving on to more pleasant topics.

“ _Who’s_ making it?” Damon scoffed indignantly. His hands were covered in cream cheese mix and he licked one absently, then grimaced at the taste. Elena chose not to take that as an indication of whether _she_ would like it.

“You can’t speak and stuff at the same time,” Shoshana informed him coolly, and his eyes widened slightly at the golden opportunity to make an inappropriate remark. So did Stefan’s and he shot his brother a warning look.

“No, not gonna go there,” Damon decided, with unusual restraint. He went back to his pastry duty and Stefan let his breath out.

“And I can make you some lunch to take to school!” Shoshana went on excitedly, looking at Elena.

“Oh, no, you don’t have to,” Elena assured her. “It’s fine, really.”

“Oh,” said Shoshana, with some disappointment.

“Of _course_ she doesn’t want you to make her lunch,” Damon mocked from the background. “Look at her, she never eats! Do they have a whole number for what size you wear, or are we into fractions?”

“Damon!” Stefan chastised. It wasn’t shocking that his brother said something rude, but in this case it seemed to be totally unprovoked.

Elena gave him a glare of death. Worse than that, a glare of contempt. Then she turned back to Shoshana. “What kind of lunch did you have in mind?” she asked her.

Shoshana beamed. “I could whip up a wonderful chicken wrap, with some homemade potato chips that I baked last night as a little after-dinner snack, and some fruit cocktail… I’m sure I could make enough for your friends, too!” Elena looked slightly overwhelmed, but Stefan was watching Damon—whose expression could only be described as… satisfied.

It was a good sign that he wanted Shoshana to be happy. But maybe he could find a way to do it _without_ insulting Elena.

 

“I don’t like leaving her alone with him all day,” Elena told Stefan seriously as they drove to school.

“They’ve been alone plenty of times,” Stefan assured her. “I think she’ll be fine. He’s usually nice to her during the day,” he added, lame though it was.

“What’s with this chasing her around the house at night thing?” she demanded, somewhat rhetorically. “It’s so _elaborate_ , and then during the day he acts like he’s trying to make the perfect home for her. And do _not_ say ‘it’s complicated,’” she ordered when Stefan opened his mouth.

“I wasn’t,” he assured her. Although it _was_. He hesitated slightly, not sure if further explanation would help or hurt the situation. “He’s trying to get the adrenaline going in her body.”

Elena stared at him. “What?”

“The adrenaline makes her stronger somehow,” he went on, as best he could. “Or maybe it’s just the increased heart rate, we’re not entirely certain.”

“What do you mean by, it makes her stronger?” Elena wanted to know. “Like… exercise, or…?”

“No. Exercise alone won’t work, actually,” Stefan informed her. “But the adrenaline makes her blood stronger. More powerful.”

“You mean, it makes _Damon_ more powerful when he drinks it,” she corrected, not at all certain this was a good thing. Stefan indicated yes. “So he frightens her at night to make her better for him to _use_ ,” she concluded in disgust. “Why at night?” As if it mattered.

“Scarier,” Stefan shrugged.

“This is just…” She shook her head. “I see now why you were so upset when he first mentioned her. I don’t know how you can live with that.”

“The chasing might only be temporary,” he told her. “Once she reaches a certain level she might just get stronger on her own.”

“Might?” she repeated dubiously.

“Everything we know we’ve had to figure out on our own,” he reminded her. “We’ve never met another source before, or anyone who had one. Maybe there’s other ways to do things, but… Damon sticks with what works.”

“Even if it makes her miserable?”

“I’m not defending him,” Stefan stated. “I wish they could be happy together without all the chaos and hurt. But he _does_ try, in his way, to be nice to her.” He could tell Elena didn’t think that was good enough.

 

Damon lay on the living room couch, staring at the ceiling, wondering if it was possible to die of boredom, even if you were technically already dead. He couldn’t go out and leave Shoshana alone in the house; he couldn’t take her out with him, either. Or at least, he didn’t want to. She wasn’t strong enough yet. Maybe he could risk it later, but not now.

She didn’t seem to suffer from boredom like he did, busying herself cooking and rearranging things in the kitchen all morning, banging around all parts of the house she could reach without crossing his path. Sometimes the sounds of another person—a more or less normal person—moving around the house pleased him; other times it irritated him, especially the irregular clangs and thumps that his sensitive hearing picked up. When she turned on the vacuum cleaner he almost jumped out of his skin.

So she kept herself occupied. But she didn’t want to talk to him. And he didn’t want to talk to her, either. What was the point of _talking_? Anyone could make up pretty words that meant nothing when you really thought about them. See all of Top 40 radio for examples.

Damon was more a man of action, anyway. And right now his action was to lay on the couch, not bothering her. It took a great deal of effort. He hoped she appreciated it.

He pulled out his phone and sent Stefan a text. _BORED_.

_SCHOOL_ , Stefan sent back almost immediately.

_Point_? Damon asked.

_Should’ve thought of boredom before_.

_POINT?_

_Later_ , Stefan tried to defer.

_Bored bored bored!_ Damon texted forcefully, careful not to break the phone (again).

_LATER_.

Okay, it was time to pull out the big guns. _E gets obscene text in 3… 2…_

_OK_ , Stefan wrote back, and Damon smirked.

_So easy_.

_Card/board game_ , Stefan suggested.

Damon shook his head even though there was no one to see it. _I cheat. She hates._

_Don’t cheat?_

What kind of advice was that? Rolling his eyes Damon replied, _Might lose!_

_D win > Sh hate cheat?_

Perhaps Stefan was in math class. _D > Sh > E >>>> St._

_So clever_ , Stefan shot back.

There was a pause that seemed long to Damon. _BORED_ , he repeated to his brother.

_TV_.

_She hates_ , Damon reminded him. A thought occurred to him. _Subscribe porn channel?_

_NO_ , came the very quick reply.

_Bored_ , Damon said again when nothing else was sent. _BORED!!_

_School!_ Stefan finally answered. _Called on_.

Damon smirked. _LOL loser. PT conf again?_ Sadly parent-teacher conferences were not regularly required at the high school level, but Damon _had_ gone in a couple times to talk about Stefan’s spotty attendance record, as his nominal legal guardian. It had been great fun—for Damon, anyway.

_Knew answer_ , Stefan assured him.

_Bigger loser_.

_School = loser?_ Stefan questioned.

Hmm, slightly deep for a text message. _162 yrs old in school = LOSER_ , Damon clarified.

_You may have a point_ , Stefan admitted. _17 = school_.

When was his brother going to get over that ridiculous limitation, Damon wondered, rolling his eyes. _St /= 17. St = 18, 19, 28_ , he suggested. If he stopped telling people he was a minor, they probably wouldn’t guess it.

_28?!_

_OK, 25_ , Damon amended. _Don’t shave, dress better._ It wouldn’t take much for Stefan to look old enough to do something more interesting with his life.

_St 25 + E 17 = jail._

Damon laughed aloud. _LOL. E almost 18._

_St 25 + E 18 = weird._

Oh, and a vampire dating a human _wasn’t_ the weird part? _vamp + hu /= weird?_

_Full of good points today_ , Stefan wrote back. _Don’t hurt yourself!_

Damon smirked at the screen. _LOL. D 22 + Sh 18 /= weird._

_D + any = weird_ , Stefan claimed.

“What are you doing?” Shoshana asked curiously, standing in the doorway some distance from him. “I heard you laugh…”

“I’m _texting_ ,” Damon told her. “Do they have that on your planet?”

She gave him a narrow look. “I know what _texting_ is,” she said coolly. “Elena showed me how to do it on my phone.”

“How about _sexting_?” he asked obnoxiously. “Did you two practice that?”

She huffed and left, which hadn’t really been his goal. Maybe he needed to work on his delivery. _Bored_ , he reminded Stefan, seeing no new message from him.

_Book_.

_Not in mood._

_Now just difficult_ , Stefan accused.

_Vexting?_ Damon punned, grinning at his own cleverness.

_HAHAHA_ , replied Stefan. It felt sarcastic rather than hearty to Damon. _Crafts._

_???_ Damon asked in confusion.

_Knitting_.

_SERIOUSLY_ , Damon shot back. Was Stefan even trying anymore?

_Wood carving_.

_No talent._

_Sand mosaics._

_No patience_ , Damon admitted.

_Macramé._

_No clue_. What _was_ that, anyway?

_Origami_.

_War flashbacks_ , Damon claimed tastelessly.

_BELL_ , Stefan informed him, so Damon generously gave him fifteen seconds to walk out of the classroom before calling him.

“Still here. Still bored,” Damon said when Stefan answered.

“ _Are you laying on the couch, staring up at the ceiling?_ ” Stefan guessed.

“That is, literally, what I’m doing right now,” Damon agreed. He could hear the chaotic sounds of students changing classes in the background, assuring him that Stefan was indeed at school. As if Stefan would ever cut class, unless of course there were vampires to fight.

“ _How’s Shoshana?_ ”

“Distant. Cool. Avoiding,” Damon assessed.

“ _Well,_ that’s _a job well done_ ,” Stefan replied dryly.

Damon checked to make sure she wasn’t around. “I’m trying.”

“ _I know you are_ ,” Stefan sighed. “ _Try harder. But in a normal way, not in_ your _way_.”

Intrigued by this advice, Damon sat up straighter. “What do you mean?” he asked curiously.

“ _Spend some time with her doing something nice_ ,” Stefan expanded, sounding slightly rushed. “ _Help her with something. I have to go_.”

“Help her with—“

“ _Bye_ ,” Stefan said, and he hung up.

Damon stared at the phone for a moment as if it would continue to give him inspiration. _Help her with something_. That’s what Stefan would do. But was this one of those times when what Stefan would do was the right thing, or when he was full of c—p?

Well, only one way to find out.

Damon walked into the kitchen, then the laundry room. Shoshana was running the washer and dryer and ironing a shirt in the middle of the room—Damon thought it was one of his. She must have sneaked up the back staircase to the bedrooms, he decided. Talk about avoiding.

“Hi,” he opened, stopping in the doorway.

She looked up warily. “Hello.”

“Laundry, huh,” he said banally. “Anything I can help with?”

She squinted at him as if trying to figure out what the joke was. “Yes, the next time you get blood on a shirt, you should rinse it in cold water right away, then put some stain remover on it and let it sit,” she declared. He raised his eyebrows. “I’ve been soaking and scrubbing those shirts all morning, trying to get the blood out,” she added, nodding towards one of the work sinks, which contained a number of soggy articles of clothing.

“Well what are you doing all _that_ for?” he asked with a frown. “Just throw them on the burn pile. I thought I _had_ already.”

“I found them there and thought they were too nice to destroy,” she countered.

“They’re _not_ too nice, they’ve got blood stains on them!” he pointed out. “Don’t waste your time on them. And you don’t have to iron, either. The dry-cleaner does that for us.”

“You can’t just throw money at problems to make them go away!” Shoshana snapped in exasperation.

He blinked at her. “Yes, I can. Money, charm, violence, or compulsion usually gets the job done.” He thought that was a pretty clever summary himself, but Shoshana didn’t seem impressed. The laundry reminded him of something else. “Hey, did you try on those clothes I got you yesterday?” She certainly wasn’t wearing any of them just then, attending Granny’s pajama party yet again.

“No, not yet.”

“Well, let’s do that,” he decided, pleased at this idea.

She gave him an irritated look. “I’m right in the middle of doing this,” she pointed out.

Damon frowned. Okay, what would Stefan do in this situation? “So I was at the mall,” he began casually, strolling over to a basket of clothes. She watched warily as he started folding them for her. “And I just kept seeing all these clothes that I thought would look beautiful on you. And then I realized, _everything_ would look beautiful on you. Or nothing at all, really, um… because you’re just beautiful. Regardless of the clothes.”

Hmm, he wasn’t sure if that really made much sense. But Stefan frequently said things that didn’t make sense, and Elena melted all over him.

He looked up to see Shoshana frowning at him. “Was that supposed to be some kind of pervy Stefan impression?” she accused. “I _don’t_ look good in everything and you know it. And those clothes are dirty.”

Damon dropped the sock he was holding back into the basket, grimacing as his plan imploded. “Look, I’m bored and I want a fashion show,” he finally told her frankly. “You don’t have to slave away in here like Cinderella. Come have some fun.”

“Trying on clothes so you can leer at me isn’t fun,” Shoshana claimed, but she set the iron down.

“Oh, you used to enjoy it,” he reminded her, taking her hand and pulling her towards the door. Then he zipped back and made sure the iron was turned off. “Just in case,” he told her.

The clothing bags were clustered on the floor of Shoshana’s room in the corner. Damon threw himself down on the couch, antsy with anticipation, while she looked through them for apparently the first time. “There’s a lot here from Victoria’s Secret,” she observed dubiously.

“We can start with those,” he agreed, as if that constituted agreeing.

She gave him a look. “I’m not trying on stuff from Victoria’s Secret for you.”

He leaned back on the couch, his hands behind his head to still them. “That’s okay, we can skip the fashion show,” he allowed, “if you’d like to put on one outfit and work it for real.”

“I will not be ‘working it,’” she informed him, her tone suggesting she didn’t know exactly what he meant but suspected it was disreputable. He grinned, because it _was_. “You should’ve told me there were dresses in here, I would’ve hung them up yesterday,” she chided, shaking out some clothes she’d pulled from another bag.

He rolled his eyes. “Quit fussing. What are you going to try on first? I have a few suggestions.”

“Hmm, jeans,” she noted, finding a pair in the bags. She glanced at him. “Jeans are so hard to fit.”

“I’ve got your dimensions down,” he assured her smugly.

“I think I’ll try these on,” she decided. “Now what shirt should I wear… Oh, a tank top.”

“My G-d, the devil,” he mocked. “What will you do with _no sleeves_? In _your own home_? It’s scandalous.”

She glared at him, though he thought he saw the corner of her mouth twitch as well. “Fine. I’ll try on the tank top and jeans.”

“Start slow, work your way up to the good stuff,” he agreed. “That’s why it’s called foreplay.” Shoshana rolled her eyes and started to walk away from him, carrying the clothes. “Where are you going?” he asked indignantly.

“To the bathroom to change.”

“Okay, _clearly_ you didn’t understand the purpose of all this,” Damon said to her retreating figure.

“Oh, yes I did,” she shot back, shutting the bathroom door between them.

He sat back down on the couch in disappointment, reduced to imagining what she was doing by the sounds. He drummed his fingers on his knee. He changed position on the couch several times. Since it was now only about thirty seconds after she’d disappeared, he hopped up and went to examine the bookcase in her room. “Hmm, romance novels, non-fiction, and old books from our library downstairs,” he announced dryly. “Whose room is this again?”

“That’s what I like to read,” she replied indignantly from the bathroom.

“You do _realize_ there are other genres, don’t you?” he asked mockingly. “Mysteries, Westerns, sci-fi, novels about people in dramatic landscapes that mirror their dysfunctional relationships?”

“That’s _not_ what I like to read.”

Damon rolled his eyes and flopped back down on the couch. “What is taking so long?” he demanded.

There was a hesitation from the bathroom. “Jeans are hard to fit,” she finally replied.

He frowned. “Did I get them wrong?”

“They might be, um, too small.”

He stifled a sigh. “They’re supposed to be tight. Get out here and let me see.” He knelt backwards on the couch, leaning over the back and staring at the bathroom door. “Come _on_ ,” he insisted in irritation. “I’ll take them back if—“ The door opened and Shoshana emerged reluctantly from the bathroom. And Damon stared. She turned around, eyeing herself in the full-length mirror, and he stared more. Then he spun around on the couch, his back to her. “This wasn’t a good idea,” he stated flatly.

“Well… I’m not really a fan of jeans, really… the fit is always just…” Her voice was unhappy; he could picture her face with a matching expression.

“No, you look beautiful,” he told her simply, staring at the wall ahead of him. “You look really…”

“Are your fangs out?” she asked in confusion. “Your voice is a little different when they’re out.”

“You wanna torture me, wear that outfit around the house all day,” he finally suggested lightly.

Shoshana walked around the couch and saw the characteristic reddening of the skin around his eyes, the protruding veins, the elongated fangs. “Are you mad about something?” she asked, completely not intimidated.

“No. Come here,” he said, tugging gently on her arm. “I am merely overcome by your booty jeans and skintight tank top.”

She sat on his lap as directed but frowned at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about sometimes.”

“You look like… Marilyn Monroe,” he tried, and her eyes lit up.

“ _Really?_ ”

“Mm-hmm,” he assured her. “Curvy and delicious.”

Damon was not usually successful at lying to be nice, so Shoshana figured he was either telling the truth or lying because he wanted her even though she _didn’t_ look good in the jeans. Either way it was flattering.

“Well, maybe I could wear this the rest of the day,” she decided. “I should put a shirt over it at least…”

“Don’t you dare,” he warned her. Slowly his face was returning to normal as he regained control of himself. “Until Stefan comes home,” he added.

 

Having not gotten any other messages from Damon that day, Stefan was somewhat anxious when he came home from school—would he find Damon and Shoshana angrily fighting, or just cold and silent? What he walked into instead was… a Taylor Swift song, blaring from every speaker in the house.

Damon was lying on the couch in the living room, eyes closed, his expression that of a man who had come to accept the horrible fate decreed for him. Stefan smiled a little. “Did—“

Damon held up his hand for silence. Taylor Swift reached a particularly dramatic crescendo, then resumed her usual level, and Damon finally opened his eyes. “Today we learned about downloading music,” he reported to Stefan in a dull tone. “Do you believe she’d never downloaded music before? We bought a Taylor Swift album,” he went on, as Stefan gave up trying to hide his expression of amusement. “Somehow it spread to every music device in the house. Like a virus.”

“I thought you had an ‘unflinching ability’ to listen to Taylor Swift?” Stefan teased, throwing his words from several months ago back at him.

“Seventeen times,” Damon intoned. “It’s played seventeen times today.”

“You haven’t had time to listen to the whole album that often,” Stefan countered.

“She found a way,” Damon assured him.


	6. Chapter 6

In retrospect, inviting both Bonnie and Ric Saltzman to dinner at the same time, with no oblivious humans as buffers, was probably not the best idea. Oh, Shoshana loved Bonnie, of course. That was disgustingly predictable. And she liked Ric because he was polite and well-educated and articulate about history. But inevitably there came the point when more _recent_ history began to be discussed. And somehow Damon never came out of that conversation intact.

“Well, he killed my grandmother,” Bonnie stated frostily.

Stefan rubbed his eyes tiredly, wondering if he could head this topic off somehow. “Uh, how’s your dad doing—“

“That was very indirect!” Damon pointed out defensively. “ _I_ didn’t make her replace the seal on the tomb. Sorry, _try_ to replace,” he added with a sneer, and Stefan winced.

Shoshana looked between Bonnie and Damon in confusion but tried valiantly to keep up the subject. “Oh, um, was your grandmother a witch, too?” she asked Bonnie politely. “We knew a lovely witch down in Atlanta, Bree—have you heard from her lately?” she said to Damon.

“He killed her last year,” Elena supplied. Stefan felt his jaw tense.

“Oh,” Shoshana responded with a frown.

“ _She_ tried to kill _me_ ,” Damon insisted.

“Well, that _is_ true,” Elena had to admit.

“Oh,” repeated Shoshana, slightly more understanding.

Stefan grabbed a random serving dish from the table. “Would anyone like more—“

“He killed my wife,” Ric remarked quietly.

“Who was also my biological mother,” Elena added coolly.

“What?” asked Shoshana, more about the odd connection than the killing.

“She wanted me to!” Damon protested. “She wanted me to turn her into a vampire and I did. She’s still walking and talking.” Stefan gritted his teeth and told himself to relax before he bent the fork in his fist.

“He killed _my_ parents, too,” Shoshana contributed conversationally, looking around to see who would be the next to share.

“How many times do I have to say this?” Damon snapped. “They were only _show_ parents, you’d only known them a few years.”

“And he killed _me_ , too,” she confided to the others.

“That _totally_ doesn’t count!” Damon insisted, obviously finding this claim over the top.

“You killed Lexi. Does _that_ count?” Stefan was surprised he’d said this out loud, though the anger had been building in him with every excuse by his brother; but he wasn’t as surprised as Damon, who stared at him as if he really couldn’t believe Stefan had just brought that up.

“Lexi?” repeated Shoshana, in real shock for the first time. “But… how…?” Lexi had been one of the better vampires she had known over the years, who tried to respect her as a person instead of seeing her as a potential food source. In lieu of response Damon suddenly found the remains of his dinner very interesting.

“Who’s Lexi?” Ric asked.

“She was a friend of mine, a vampire,” Stefan explained stiffly. “She came to town to visit me. She wasn’t going to hurt anyone.”

“She was nice,” Elena confirmed, giving Damon an accusatory glare.

Damon dropped his fork with a clatter. “Look, in case you don’t remember, this town was in a frenzy hunting for vampires!” he snapped at them. “So I gave them a vampire and saved both our a-ses.” This argument didn’t seem to impress anyone, given the cold stares he was getting from most of the table.

“And _why_ was the town in a frenzy hunting for vampires?” Stefan asked with uncharacteristic acidity. “Because of the people _you_ had killed!”

“Like Vicki,” Elena pointed out.

“And Mr. Tanner,” Bonnie added.

“ _That’s_ what happened to Tanner?” Ric asked in surprise. He’d taken over the man’s history classes when he’d come to town.

“And all those hikers in the woods,” Stefan added. “All the ‘animal attack’ victims.”

Damon had had enough. “Well now I don’t have to kill _anyone_ , because I can feed off _her_!” he snarled, pointing rudely at Shoshana. He stood abruptly and everyone tensed. “So all of you who whine about how badly I treat her—I haven’t _touched_ a human since I brought her back! And I won’t need to as long as she’s here. So go ahead and pick which evil you’d like me to do,” he ended nastily, before stomping off.

There was an uncomfortable silence around the table. Shoshana looked embarrassed; Elena, Bonnie, and Ric surprised; and Stefan worn out. The front door slammed as Damon left and everyone jumped.

“Would anyone like some chocolate mousse?” Shoshana offered, awkward but hopeful. “It’s kosher…” She trailed off painfully to no response.

 

Damon slunk back later in the evening, finding Shoshana sitting alone at the kitchen island, eating a bowl of chocolate mousse and looking dejected. He sat down across from her, his head on his arm, looking up at her with an expression that might have been called regretful… on someone else.

“You spoiled dinner,” Shoshana informed him. Her tone was irritated but resigned.

“Sorry.”

“No one even wanted to try my chocolate mousse! It took a long time to make.”

“More for you.”

They were quiet for a moment. She picked at the dessert, his quick blue eyes watching every movement. “Did you really have to kill Lexi?” she asked.

“She always got on my nerves,” Damon reminded her. “And I had to protect Stefan.”

“Was he under suspicion?” Stefan had conveniently not mentioned anything about this to her.

“Eventually one of us would’ve been,” Damon assured her. He really believed that. “They were looking for anyone new in town.”

“Couldn’t the human living here vouch for you as his relatives?” she persisted.

“Um, no,” Damon admitted uncomfortably.

“Why not?”

“Well, I’d killed him.”

“Oh, Damon,” Shoshana sighed. He nodded; it was a hard habit to break.

“I was really p----d off!” he complained, sitting up a little. “Stefan drugged me, locked me in the basement, stole my ring, tried to starve me! I barely got out.”

Shoshana, of all people, knew Stefan must’ve had good reasons for doing all that. She didn’t even have to think hard about what they might be, especially given tonight’s dinner conversation. But still—her heart couldn’t condemn Damon. That wasn’t how she was made.

“Here, have some chocolate mousse,” she offered.

His eyes flashed. “You gonna put a little something in it for me?”

She hesitated for a moment and he was prepared to let it go. Then she pulled a knife out of the nearby block and carefully pierced the tip of one finger with its point. She hissed slightly and Damon’s gaze became riveted on the fat drops of blood welling from her fingertip, dripping into the bowl. It was only a few; the cut was shallow. Then she swirled the blood into the mousse, as though trying to blend in food coloring, and offered up some of the muddy mixture on a spoon. He leaned across the table and let her feed him a bite.

“Mmm, delicious,” he purred. Contrition wasn’t really his style; he preferred to just move forward. “I could eat the whole bowl.”

“You’d get sick if you ate the whole bowl,” she warned him.

Damon ignored this. “I could do nice things with a bowl of chocolate mousse,” he suggested.

“Alone?” Shoshana shot back, raising an eyebrow.

“Alone,” he agreed flirtatiously, “or with an audience, or with a participant.” Their gazes locked and for the first time Damon thought he saw a hint of—

“You’re home,” Stefan noted, appearing in the doorway.

“Go away,” Damon ordered, but it was too late; Shoshana was already looking away, pulling back.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” Stefan asked seriously.

“No.” Damon’s eyes didn’t leave Shoshana as she stood and started cleaning up the kitchen, putting a Band-Aid on her finger. Of course, Stefan didn’t leave.

“I’ll put this in the fridge for you,” Shoshana informed Damon matter-of-factly, putting plastic wrap over the bowl of mousse. Whatever had been brewing between them was gone.

“Fine,” Damon huffed. Whether this was directed at Shoshana or Stefan wasn’t clear, since he stood abruptly and practically ran into Stefan trying to follow him out. “Well?” he said impatiently, and his younger brother led him through the house to the back patio.

“You have terrible timing!” Damon accused as soon as the door was shut behind them. “I was _wooing_ her, we were making a connection! She fed me chocolate mousse, she even put blood in it for me! Five more minutes and our clothes would’ve been hanging from the pot rack.”

Stefan blinked at him. “You’re disgusting, and have a massively overinflated ego,” he stated, as a matter of course.

“Hang on,” Damon said in annoyance, reaching for his phone. Stefan crossed his arms over his chest, well-practiced at exercising patience with his brother. Damon looked at the screen pensively, then fired off a quick text message.

Suddenly Stefan’s phone buzzed and he started to get worried—if _both_ of them were being contacted—

The text was from Damon. And it read, _POINT?_

“You’re also incredibly juvenile,” Stefan observed, putting his phone away.

“You could’ve put all this in a greeting card,” Damon remarked. “What do you want?”

Stefan couldn’t tell if he was mad about being interrupted with Shoshana, mad about the earlier incident, or just mad in general. “I wanted to talk about dinner.”

Damon rolled his eyes. “And you wonder why we don’t entertain more.”

“It went downhill pretty fast,” Stefan agreed delicately. He had no intention of apologizing for his actual remarks; but the timing of them—that, he should’ve rethought. “It was—not the way the evening should’ve ended.”

Damon shrugged, his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. “Everybody hates me. I understand. This is not a new concept for me.”

He said these words not bitterly but matter-of-factly, and that was what pained Stefan the most, because it didn’t _have_ to be that way for his brother. “I don’t hate you,” he tried, and his conscience pricked at him. “Okay, sometimes I hate you,” he corrected, “but fundamentally I don’t.”

“Wow, ‘fundamentally I don’t hate you,’” Damon mocked as Stefan rolled his eyes. “Put that one on a cake!” He didn’t seem hurt, though, so Stefan presumed his message had gotten across. “It’s okay,” Damon went on. “People hate me, I understand why. I do bad things to them. But that girl in there”—he gazed back at the house, indicating Shoshana—“who has every reason in the world to hate me—and G-d knows I give her new ones every day—I don’t think she hates me. I think she likes me. A little bit. It’s… remarkable.”

He sounded so amazed by this concept that Stefan smiled. “She loves you,” he suggested.

“Hmm,” Damon replied cryptically, the notion clearly still under debate for him.

“I love you, too, you know,” Stefan told him.

Damon dismissed this offering in his characteristic manner. “Well, you’re my brother. It’s genetic or something.”

_That_ notion was under debate for Stefan. “What about Elena?” he asked tolerantly. “She cares about you.” Although right now was not the best time to test it.

Damon waved that off as well; Stefan didn’t know if he should take it seriously or not. “She’s just confusing love with powerful sexual tension,” he claimed. “Girls do that a lot.”

“Luckily for you,” Stefan supplied, rolling his eyes. “At the risk of discouraging you”—which he really didn’t want to do—“what makes you think that’s not the case with Shoshana?”

Damon was already shaking his head. “No, if it was just lust she’d have jumped me by now,” he judged. “Or let me jump _her_.”

“So the fact that Shoshana _hasn’t_ had sex with you yet means it’s love, not lust?” Stefan summarized, feeling slightly helpless against the tide of pretzel logic.

“Well yeah,” his brother agreed. “In the absence of other impediments, like already having a hot boyfriend like Elena does—“

“Why thank you,” Stefan said dryly.

“You’re welcome. With nothing standing between her and my bed, the only conclusion is some kind of emotional conflict,” Damon deduced.

“I hear girls get those sometimes,” Stefan deadpanned.

“Not as much as they used to,” Damon commented. “So, therefore, love.”

Stefan blinked at the abrupt conclusion, then realized he’d been expecting an argument that made sense. Which was his own fault, really. “You’re right, that _is_ remarkable,” he agreed.

Damon, to his credit, was self-aware enough to grin at his brother’s slightly patronizing tone. “Well, not all of us can have nice, simple love affairs where the biggest problem is the new girlfriend looking exactly like the old one.”

Stefan laughed at that, unexpectedly. “That’s right. Some people just thrive on drama.” He sobered slightly. “Are you still going to chase her tonight?”

“Yes,” Damon answered immediately. “She needs to be stronger. It’s only a matter of time before we’ll find Katherine and her minions in the living room wanting to play.”

Stefan nodded slowly, hoping Damon wasn’t going to bring up the idea of him feeding on Shoshana again. Frankly the thought was tempting, so tempting that he needed to cling to the repugnance he also felt to keep himself from giving in. He didn’t want to hurt people, he didn’t want to _use_ them, and that included people who were fully aware of what was going on. Was it really Shoshana’s choice, if she was trapped here with Damon, under his thumb? Stefan couldn’t be sure. He couldn’t let himself take advantage.

“We watched romantic comedies today,” Damon announced, breaking the silence that had descended on them. He kicked at a loose brick on the patio.

“I think you mentioned that once or twice,” Stefan noted with a wry smirk. “Would you stop?” he added, regarding the patio.

Damon rolled his eyes at the correction but stopping toeing the brick. “Only it turns out some of them weren’t supposed to be funny,” he went on. “Like _The Notebook_. Who knew?”

“I’m surprised you didn’t realize you shouldn’t laugh at _The Notebook_ ,” Stefan remarked, “because it’s a real panty-dropper.”

Damon laughed far too long at his brother for using this phrase, though Stefan seemed perfectly serious. “Whatever! I don’t usually have to sit through a whole movie first.” Stefan granted that. “And then we watched _Marley & Me_.”

“Did you laugh at _that_?”

“Well, not at the end,” Damon confessed. He sounded slightly wistful, which was unusual for him. “It made me think of that dog I had when I was really young. Before Bosco even. Actaeon. You probably don’t remember him.”

“Of course I do,” said Stefan, with some indignation. “It was a bulldog, and it was mean. Father shot it when it bit me.”

“You were little and fat and juicy,” Damon reminded him. “You probably looked like a Thanksgiving turkey to him.” He stared out across the dark lawn to the woods beyond. “G-d, I loved that dog. He used to sleep with me before _you_ came along. Maybe that’s why he didn’t like you, because you kicked him out of the bed.” Stefan rolled his eyes. “I was _so angry_ when Father shot him…”

“I’m sorry I got your dog killed,” Stefan told him—a bit flatly, since it was after all one hundred and sixty years ago. Why did these conversations always involve him apologizing for something?

“It wasn’t your fault,” Damon decided, with surprising sincerity. “He _was_ kind of a mean dog.” That hadn’t stopped Damon from loving him, though.

 

Elena rolled over, burying her head under a pillow. But it was hot and hard to breathe under there, and anyway she could still hear them, so she tossed the pillow aside in frustration. “Is he not even _trying_ to be quiet anymore?” she complained groggily.

Stefan was torn between sympathy for Elena and the desire to join the chase himself. He wrapped his arms around her, hoping that might anchor him in place. “I’ll talk to him in the morning,” he promised. There was a thud from downstairs, a pause, then feet pounding again.

“She can’t just run on a treadmill or something?” Elena mumbled into Stefan’s chest.

“We’ve tried straight exercise before,” Stefan explained to her. “One time Damon rowed her out to the middle of a lake and made her row them back to shore. That actually helped,” he recalled, “but only once he started rocking the boat. She couldn’t swim at the time. Running up and down the stairs didn’t do any good, for instance.”

“How can you tell if it— _helps_?” Elena asked him.

“Her blood tastes different,” Stefan answered, a little too quickly. “Damon can tell if it’s stronger or not.” The taste of Shoshana’s blood was _not_ what he wanted to be thinking about right now.

“Oh, G-d, she’s coming upstairs,” Elena moaned, hearing Shoshana’s feet on the stairs. “Don’t tell her I said that,” she whispered fiercely to Stefan. “I know it’s not her fault—“

But for once Stefan wasn’t really listening to her; he was too concerned with thinking about something, anything, other than Shoshana racing past, the sound of her pounding heart, the faint scent of her blood, the way the taste of it would explode across his tongue—He was at the bedroom door before he even thought, hearing Elena call his name in confusion from the bed. She stopped when he glanced back at her, his eyes glowing like an animal’s in the darkness.

Stefan went into the hall, not completely out of control just yet, and saw that Shoshana had reversed course and was now running back _down_ the stairs, her eyes wild, hair tangled, sweating lightly with her efforts, which only increased the scent in the air. From this vantage point her fear seemed slightly ridiculous, since Damon wasn’t even chasing her—he was lounging against the wall near his bedroom, in the shadows, no fangs even.

He saw Stefan leaning over the balcony rail, more interested than he wanted to be, and smirked. “I gave her a head start,” he told his brother, “but feel free to cut in.”

“Stefan?” said Elena dubiously, treading the cool wood flooring of the hall in her bare feet.

“Don’t get too close,” Damon advised her.

Shoshana hit the bottom of the stairs and turned in confusion, unsure which way to go next, and Stefan promptly threw himself over the balcony rail. Elena couldn’t help it; she screamed. So did Shoshana, even before Stefan landed perfectly on his feet before her, his face a vampiric mask.

“Fang out, bro,” Damon encouraged, watching the spectacle below with amusement. Elena stood beside him with a look of horror on her face.

For a moment Stefan stared Shoshana down, daring her to run from him; then suddenly he seemed to come to his senses and spun around. “Sorry,” he said distinctly, his shoulders tense with the effort to restrain himself. “I’m sorry—“

“Awwww,” Damon called down in disappointment.

“Stefan?” asked Elena in a small voice.

“I need to—“ His figure blurred as he raced towards the back door and left the house.

“Loser!” Damon called cheerfully after him, followed by, “Oh no no no!” as he saw Shoshana glance in the other direction, towards the front door. “You _do not_ leave this house!”

She took the challenge and ran for it. Damon started to vault over the railing after her and Elena recklessly grabbed his arm, tumbling over the rail as well. She screamed as she stared down into the dim foyer, at an angle she shouldn’t be seeing unless it was to be swiftly followed by a very painful stop on the floor below.

Only it wasn’t. Instead she hovered as if frozen in mid-air—which she was, since Damon was holding her. And he could fly. “That was very stupid,” he scolded her. “Don’t ever do it again.” She could agree with that. He set her carefully on her feet in the second-floor hallway, then repeated his vault back downstairs, unimpeded. It had lost some of its dramatic power, however.

“Shoshana! Get back in this house!” he roared after the girl, racing through the open front door. He tackled her on the front lawn, tucking and rolling to take most of the impact himself, but she still screamed. Thank G-d they didn’t have any close neighbors.

She squirmed under him frantically, which was a lot of fun for him but not really conducive to deescalating the situation. Shoshana got in a lucky elbow under his chin, stunning him enough that she could scramble away. He recovered quickly and forced her to the ground again. They were going to be _covered_ in grass stains—he spared a brief thought to wish Stefan would do something useful for once and eat the stray dog that had been leaving messes on the lawn.

“Come here!” Damon snarled at Shoshana, grappling his way on top of her again. “Don’t scream!” If the neighbors heard too much noise outside this time of night they’d call the cops and he would have a devil of a time explaining this to Sheriff Forbes. Shoshana understood this at least, more or less, and didn’t scream.

Suddenly something hit him across the back—he could tell it had pierced his skin but it didn’t really hurt. It was pulled off and he looked up to see Elena standing in the yard wielding a rake, whose teeth were dark with his blood. “Next time I use the wooden end,” she threatened. “Get off her!”

Well, there was already too much to be careful about for the game to be fun anymore, so Damon rolled off, scrambling away as Elena jabbed at him with the rake handle like _he_ was the stray dog. When he knelt on the ground several yards away, seemingly contained, she put the rake down and sat beside Shoshana, taking her in her arms.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Elena told her, cradling her gently.

“I’m sorry,” Shoshana sniffled. “I didn’t mean to—“ She didn’t even really know what she was apologizing for, she just felt bad that Elena had to take care of her all the time.

“It’s okay,” Elena repeated. “Let’s go inside and take care of your arm.” There was a long scrape down her forearm that was starting to bleed.

“You shouldn’t waste that blood,” Damon commented mildly. His face had gone back to normal and he seemed _almost_ innocent—but yet there was still something predatory about him, something that Elena didn’t trust. “I can help…” He started to crawl over to the girls, very slowly, as if _they_ were the wild animals who might flee at any moment.

“Stay over there,” Elena warned him, but with less force. His gaze was concerned, almost, though her instincts said it could easily be a trap to relax them. Damon slunk closer, going down on his belly in the grass to continue his approach. It was a ridiculous position but it didn’t seem awkward for him. His eyes watched their every movement as he crawled towards them, as if he thought staying low might convince them of his subservience. Shoshana didn’t seem scared, though, so Elena tried to take her cues from the other girl.

Boldly Damon slithered his way into Shoshana’s lap. “Does it hurt?” he purred. “I’m sorry…” His tongue darted out and licked at her wound. She flinched slightly at first but soon relaxed, watching him clean the blood from her arm with a sort of dull fascination. Elena felt the same way, vaguely disgusted at what she was seeing, but also intrigued, and just too d—n tired to keep fighting. She checked to be sure she still wore her vervain necklace—there was something hypnotic about his voice, his eyes, even though she knew he couldn’t compel her. She didn’t think Shoshana could be compelled, either—everything would be a lot easier if she could.

“The more she gets hurt, the faster she heals,” Damon said in a low voice, his tongue still leaving wet streaks across Shoshana’s arm. “And the more scared she is, the stronger she becomes.”

“Stefan told me,” Elena agreed wearily.

“That’s the kind of irony I can really appreciate,” he commented with a smirk, his voice almost back to normal. Elena could see that already Shoshana’s injury didn’t look as bad as it had earlier.

Damon snaked his way up her side, nuzzling her arm, shoulder, and neck as he went by. Elena was intensely uncomfortable watching the intimacy between them, being so close to it, but at the same time there was a thrilling feeling of… being included in it. Especially when Damon flashed her a look across Shoshana’s shoulder, his eyes blazing.

“We’re going to bed now,” Elena announced suddenly, then blushed at how that sounded. The cool night air seemed to wake her finally and she realized they shouldn’t sit here on the lawn all night.

Damon pulled back slightly. “Let’s use Stefan’s bed this time. I get to be in the middle!”

“You’re not invited,” Elena snapped at him.

“Oh, but what if I promise to be good?” Damon cajoled. “Very, _very_ good…”

Shoshana started to shiver suddenly. “Can we go inside now, please?” she requested, huddling close to Elena for warmth.

Damon frowned. “Of course. Come on.” His businesslike tone took Elena by surprise and she almost fell over when he scooped Shoshana up and started carrying her inside. “Coming?” he asked her with an obnoxious smirk over his shoulder, and Elena gritted her teeth and followed.

 

Stefan was not expecting to find more than one person in his bed when he came home—let alone three. Damon was curled up around Shoshana and—about a foot away, on Shoshana’s side—was Elena. The two girls were blissfully asleep. Damon was grinning so broadly Stefan thought he might hurt himself.

“We’re having a snuggle party,” Damon whispered to him. “Want to join?”

Stefan could not imagine what sequence of events would’ve led to this arrangement, and frankly he wasn’t really in the mood to speculate. Giving his brother a warning look he slipped into bed behind Elena, careful not to wake her. Damon closed his eyes and cuddled up to Shoshana even more, the grin still on his face.

 

Elena was awakened—yet again that night—by movement and moaning, this time in the bed next to her. “What are you _doing_?” she hissed at Damon, slightly horrified. He had his arms tight around Shoshana as she squirmed vigorously.

Damon flashed a look at Elena over Shoshana’s shoulder. “Shh, shh, it’s just a dream, Sosie,” he whispered in her ear. “Just a dream.”

“She’s having a nightmare,” Stefan said, from behind Elena. Carefully he rolled them so that he was between the two girls, catching Shoshana’s arm as it lashed out involuntarily. Damon took it and tucked it back against his body. “She’s _still_ having nightmares?” Stefan questioned.

“Well _clearly_ ,” Damon replied in irritation, continuing to whisper soothingly to Shoshana.

“I thought you were _connecting_ —“

“We hadn’t _fully_ connected,” Damon countered, through gritted teeth.

“What?” Elena asked in weary confusion, leaning over Stefan.

“She won’t have nightmares if she has sex,” Stefan explained delicately.

“With _Damon_?” Elena said, her tone holding more disbelief than perhaps she’d meant.

“I’m just that good,” Damon tried to brag, right before Shoshana unconsciously kicked him in the shin. It probably hurt her more than him, though.

“With anyone, really,” Stefan corrected.

“Or even no one,” Damon added, “but clearly _that_ hasn’t been happening.”

Elena was ready to give up at this point. “What the h—l kind of powers are these?” she sighed, flopping back down on the mattress.

“Tell me about it,” Damon muttered. Suddenly Shoshana stilled and he released her tentatively to see what she would do. Eyes still closed she scooted across the mattress and snuggled up against… Stefan.

“Um, hmm,” he replied delicately as Damon snickered and Elena tried not to convey annoyance with her friend who clearly wasn’t aware of her actions. “I think she’s done for the night, so…” He transferred her to Damon’s arms. “That didn’t seem so bad,” he observed, clearing his throat.

“Well, I was trying to keep her still,” Damon admitted. “She’ll be sore tomorrow. Maybe you could give her a massage,” he added with obnoxious brightness. “Elena, have you ever had one of Stefan’s _extra_ special backrubs—“

“Go to sleep,” Stefan and Elena snapped at the same time.


	7. Chapter 7

Shoshana looked up from the book she was reading as she realized her eyes had traveled the length of the page without her brain really registering the words. She felt restless and a little bored, which then made her feel guilty; there were so many wonderful things she could do, she had no right to find them all dull.

Well, her choice of activities wasn’t _unlimited_ , she reminded herself, looking longingly out the window to the sunny backyard below. Contrarily, if Damon said she wasn’t to go outside, that was the one place she wanted to be. Or if she _had_ to stay indoors, she wanted it to be in the company of one of her new friends. But Elena was at her home today, with Stefan, doing homework and sharing some quality time without Damon to pester them; Bonnie had not yet been invited back after the slightly disastrous dinner party; and Shoshana didn’t feel she knew Jenna well enough to socialize with her alone. And that was her total friend count in Mystic Falls at the moment.

Well, except for Damon.

Sometimes talking to him, or even catching his attention, was like poking a bear, ill-advised and painful; other times he was actually thoughtful, nice even, and she felt herself drawing closer to him, remembering the good times instead of the bad. But she could never tell which way he was going to go. Feeling lonely enough to risk it, Shoshana decided to go looking for him, at least to see what he was up to and what kind of mood he was in.

Glancing out a front window she saw him in the driveway and headed to the garage. He’d opened the garage door and pulled one of the cars out, and she stepped down into the cool, shadowy concrete cave to get a better look at what he was doing to it. Wearing a tank top and what were, for him, old jeans, Damon crouched effortlessly beside the car, delicately applying paint to the body with a thin brush.

She didn’t want to startle him so she waited until he’d glanced up at her in acknowledgement before proceeding closer, up to the very edge of the garage floor. “Stop,” he warned, pointing at her with the brush and a sharp gaze. “Go back inside.”

She didn’t think this order was serious. “What are you doing?” she queried cautiously.

“Knitting a sweater,” he replied sarcastically, resuming his work. “What do you _think_ I’m doing?”

She craned her neck to see. “I think you’re painting a beautiful dragon on that car!”

He gave her a sideways glance, then surveyed the area around them suspiciously. “Stay on the concrete near me,” he allowed, and Shoshana skipped out into the sunlight for the first time.

He was, indeed, painting an intricate dragon on the driver’s side of the car, his outline indicating its body would curve all the way across the trunk with its tail ending on the passenger side, and that flames would shoot from its mouth up to the hood. “It’s so pretty,” Shoshana told him, because it was. “Why did you decide to paint a dragon on your car?”

Damon smirked a little. “It’s not my car. It’s Stefan’s.”

“Oh. Why does Stefan want a dragon?”

“It’s a little surprise for him,” Damon told her, and she saw his game now. “He’s supposed to take some of his football buddies to the bonfire tonight,” he added with a wicked grin. “I thought this would make the trip more entertaining.”

Somehow she didn’t think Stefan would see it that way, but that was kind of the point, wasn’t it? “Won’t he just take _your_ car?” she asked.

Damon’s smirk broadened. “He can if he wants.” Eyes narrowing, Shoshana went back into the garage and examined the other car. Damon anticipated her gasp of indignation and relished it.

“That is _indecent_!” she declared. Then she looked again. “But very well done. But you can’t drive that around town!” Standing, Damon ambled over to join her in staring at the car-side painting he’d completed earlier. “You should at least paint a shirt on her,” Shoshana insisted primly.

“Mermaids don’t wear _shirts_ ,” Damon scoffed. “That’s just silly.” She gave him a look. “Well, I was planning to slap some magnetic bumper stickers over her boobs when I went out,” he amended. “G-d knows Liz would love to write me a ticket for public indecency.”

“No more than you deserve,” Shoshana decided.

“So if Stefan wants to borrow this one, he can,” Damon reiterated, heading back to his dragon painting. “I have to get this done before he gets back from Elena’s. So go back in the house and don’t bother me.”

“Can’t I stay outside a _little_ longer?” she pleaded.

He gave her an appraising look. “Don’t get off the concrete,” he warned and was rewarded with a noise of delight that he rolled his eyes at.

Damon went back to painting the car and tried to concentrate, but he found himself watching Shoshana instead. She’d given up twirling in circles in the sunshine rather quickly as it made her dizzy; instead she took off her shoes and walked around on the warm, smooth surface barefoot, circling the perimeter she was allowed and surveying the house and yard from every angle. At one point he glanced up and caught her staring at him; she looked away quickly, blushing faintly, and he decided wearing this particular shirt had been a good idea. Finally she sat down and plucked a white dandelion seed head from the nearby grass.

“Don’t blow on that,” he told her. “I don’t want dandelion fluff in the paint.”

She set it carefully aside. “It’s nice out,” she remarked.

“You’re bothering me. Be quiet.”

“Have you noticed how often you say things you don’t mean?” she questioned curiously.

“No,” he replied obtusely.

She leaned back, basking in the sunlight. “What sort of neighbors do you have now?” she asked after a moment, looking past the large side yard and bordering trees. She could just see part of the next house beyond them.

“There’s an old lady who complains if we make too much noise,” he told her sourly. “And on the other side, a family with a couple of obnoxious kids who keep trying to shovel our snow and mow our lawn.”

“Oh, how terrible,” Shoshana replied flatly. “Maybe I could bake some cookies or bread for them!” she added eagerly.

“Please, it’s not the ‘50’s anymore,” he scoffed. “They’re probably allergic to six different things, and have germ neuroses about eating food from unknown kitchens, and would break the food into crumbs looking for razor blades.”

She stared at him. “ _They’re_ the ones with neuroses?” she finally replied.

“The modern world is a dark place,” he judged, scooting down a little to work on another part of the dragon. “Well, it’s always been dark, but there’s more people total doing bad things, and they can meet up with each other on the Internet, and the media reports on it more.”

“Can we talk about something else?” Shoshana requested.

“Sure. Chocolate kittens or heart-shaped lollipops?” he asked sarcastically.

“I wonder if I could go out and see the town,” she suggested idly.

His answer was predictable and abrupt. “No.”

“But I’m getting stronger!” she pointed out. “Just for a little while. Like for lunch.”

“Go back in the house,” he told her, which she understood was a threat of what would happen if she persisted with this topic.

Shoshana huffed slightly but didn’t press. Instead she lay down fully on the concrete, her hands behind her head as a pillow, enjoying the warm sunlight and slight breeze. Damon stood and leaned against the back bumper of the car, working on the dragon’s tail. He wasn’t really painting _faster_ than a human could, but he was painting _well_ faster—the dragon scales were small and he took pride in his work, even if it wouldn’t last very long once Stefan saw it.

He glanced over at Shoshana and his painting speed slowed to a normal level. Her arms behind her head had caused her shirt to ride up just a little bit, leaving an inch-wide strip of pale skin to draw his eye. It was not particularly exotic on its own—he could see more bare flesh on a trip to the mall in the winter—but it made him think of other parts, which were still covered, and how he might bring about their uncovering. The hand with the paintbrush stilled altogether.

Lying on the concrete didn’t look very comfortable. He could bring out a lawn chair for her and put it right next to the car. She could have sunglasses so she didn’t squint and a smoothie to sip on and a book to read. Maybe he could get her into some short sleeves. Maybe he could think of something to converse with her about instead of just staring and wiping the drool from his chin.

Maybe he could actually progress from lame fantasies about short sleeves and lawn chairs to real physical contact. Rolling his eyes at the depths to which he’d sunk, Damon went back to painting with determination. A few minutes later when he heard the mail truck rumble down the street towards them, he didn’t hesitate to send Shoshana back into the house for good.

 

Stefan walked into the living room to find Shoshana reading quietly in an armchair while Damon watched TV, the volume turned low enough that it wouldn’t bother her. It was almost too low for even Stefan to hear; but Damon’s hearing had become more sensitive lately.

Shoshana jumped up to give him a hug. “Stefan! How are you? How’s Elena?” she asked, as if they’d been parted for ages. Damon winced at her voice, his hearing currently tuned to much softer sounds.

“I’m fine,” Stefan assured her, suddenly feeling tongue-tied. Her scent was warm and inviting and made him realize how long it had been since his last meal; he stepped back from the hug awkwardly, rubbing her arms instead. “Um, Elena and I got a lot done on our homework. We had to write a research paper about electromagnetism for Physics class, but without using the Internet, and we don’t really have a lot of books on the subject here so we were in the library for—“ He stopped abruptly when he realized he was rambling, though Shoshana’s expression was studiously interested, and he slid his hands safely into his pockets. Damon was apparently too absorbed in his new episode of _Jersey Shore_ to bother mocking him.

“I heard you’re going to a _bonfire_ tonight,” Shoshana enthused. “That sounds like so much fun!”

“Yeah, it’s kind of a pep rally for the basketball game tomorrow,” he explained. “I was just about to leave for it, actually. I’m the designated driver for some of my football teammates,” he added with slight sarcasm.

“G-d, I love Snooki,” Damon proclaimed suddenly.

The other two ignored him. “That’s very responsible of you,” Shoshana told Stefan seriously. “Would you like me to make you a hamper of fruit and sandwiches to take?”

“No. Thank you, though,” he replied quickly. “I think people will have eaten already.”

“Sit down and watch this with me,” Damon ordered Shoshana, turning up the volume slightly. “It’s educational. Let Stefan go to his pagan drinking festival.”

“Say hello to Elena and Bonnie for me!” Shoshana enjoined Stefan, giving him another hug. He was torn between making some pretense to get her alone and ask her about her day, and worry that if he did so, he’d concentrate more on wanting her blood than listening to her. And since _that_ line of thought wasn’t going anywhere productive, Stefan gave her a tight smile and left quickly, making a mental note to grab a bottle of blood from the fridge on the way out.

It was not long before he returned.

Shoshana and Damon were sitting on the couch—carefully not touching—still staring at the TV. So innocently.

“Where are the keys to your car?” Stefan asked, an unmistakable note of irritation in his tone.

“You are _not_ taking the ‘Vette to that bonfire!” Damon proclaimed immediately, turning to look at him finally. “It’ll smell like beer puke and pot for the next month.”

“Ew,” Shoshana noted, wrinkling her nose.

“Well you should’ve thought of that before you _painted a dragon_ on my car.”

Damon’s lips twitched and then he dissolved into snickers, while Stefan rolled his eyes. “It’s such a _beautiful_ dragon, though!” Shoshana insisted, also giggling but in a nicer way.

“Yes, yes, quite accomplished,” Stefan agreed flatly, as Damon continued to feed off his own mirth. “Very eye-catching. Where are your _keys_?”

“Well, _fine_ ,” Damon finally responded, still highly amused by himself. “Hall table. But do _not_ let those Neanderthals sully it.”

“I’ll try,” Stefan replied, not very seriously. He dropped his keys on the hall table and picked up Damon’s instead.

“You’re missing out!” Damon warned as he went back to the garage. “It’s a real p‑‑‑y wagon now!” He tried so hard to quiet down, practically shaking with the effort of not laughing anymore—and _definitely_ not making eye contact with Shoshana. A minute later Stefan walked slowly back into the living room and Damon finally let loose, cackling so much he couldn’t even stay upright. Shoshana was laughing, too, which softened it somewhat for Stefan—it was nice to see her having a good time. Even at his expense.

Stefan let his brother get it out. “Hours of preparation, just for this moment,” he noted as Damon devolved into stuttering chortles. “I hope it was worth it.”

“Oh, it was,” Damon assured him, slouching on the couch with a big, stupid grin on his face. “I’ve been enjoying the anticipation _all day_. Just like foreplay.”

“Interesting analogy,” Stefan remarked, deciding not to go there. He laid Damon’s keys back down on the hall table and picked up his own again. “Guess I’ll take the dragon-mobile.” This set Damon off all over again, though at a lower level.

Shoshana was trying to catch her breath and wipe tears from her eyes. “I _told_ him the mermaid was obscene!” she insisted. “Could you—um—take Elena’s car?” she suggested, trying to be helpful despite her amusement.

“No, that’s okay,” Stefan insisted in a noble, long-suffering tone, which was only partially exaggerated. “She wouldn’t want it to smell like beer puke and pot.” With a sigh he went back to the garage, Damon’s guffaws ringing in his ears—though once his back was turned Stefan let a small smile slip.

 

Vampires were not actually any more susceptible to fire than humans were; it was just that they _were_ susceptible, when so many other things had ceased to be deadly. You could boil a vampire, or freeze him, or drown him, or cut off his arm, or give him a teacup full of cyanide to drink, and he would still be alright in the end. But fire would destroy him for good, as soon as it would destroy a living human.

Nonetheless, Stefan had gone to a recreational bonfire, and Damon was sitting on the floor in front of the living room fireplace, holding a skewer with kosher hot dogs on its prongs over the dancing flames.

“Don’t burn them, I don’t like them burnt,” Shoshana warned him, for perhaps the seventh time. She was busy laying out the rest of her feast on the floor—fruit salad, potato chips, baked beans, and the hot dog buns and toppings.

“I’m not burning them,” Damon scoffed. When she turned away momentarily he took a closer look to make sure this was true.

“This is so much fun!” she decided. “What a good idea you had.”

“It was hardly _my_ idea, you hinted about it so much,” he reminded her. He retracted the hot dogs from the flames. “Here, what do you think?”

“Perfect,” she judged, letting him maneuver the meat into the buns. There was no way Damon was going to let Shoshana leave the (relative) safety of the house to prance around a giant fire in the middle of the woods after dark; that was practically the vampire equivalent of a grill-your-own steakhouse. But she seemed pleased to recreate the experience at home, or at least what she imagined the experience to be.

“When we first came to town this last time,” Damon began, trusting she knew what he meant, “there was a big party in the woods for the kiddies. Stefan was first trying to put the moves on Elena,” he added, rolling his eyes. “And he didn’t know I was in town yet.” Shoshana dressed her hot dogs as she listened, sensing he was working up to something. “And I grabbed this girl in the woods but didn’t quite kill her, which was careless on my part.”

“Was she okay?” Shoshana wanted to know. It was hard to know where her sympathies should lie in these stories sometimes.

Damon’s expression indicated it was more complicated than that. “Well, Stefan tried to wipe her memory, but he screwed it up and she still remembered bits,” he told her. “So I had to clean up _that_ mess. And then, oddly enough, I attacked her _again_ later.”

“Damon,” Shoshana chided, eating her supper.

“Well, that was when Stefan had locked me up and tried to starve me,” he said defensively. “She just _happened_ to be around when I got out. But she _still_ wouldn’t die, so… I turned her.”

Shoshana’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really?” She glanced around involuntarily, as though expecting this new vampire to pop out from a closet.

“Well, I was bored,” he claimed. “But Stefan managed to suck all the fun out of it. _Again_. He even killed her and then _I_ had to get rid of the body for him.”

“Why did Stefan kill her?” Shoshana asked with disappointment.

“Oh, you wouldn’t have liked her, she was a burn-out, and kind of trampy,” he assured her, in case Shoshana was planning to add her to their vampire family tree. “He _had_ to kill her, she attacked Elena.” He would’ve done the same thing if he’d been there.

“Oh,” she replied, with more understanding. “Poor Elena!”

“She was wearing this little nurse’s outfit, all bloody and angry,” he reminisced fondly. “Er, it was Halloween,” he added quickly at Shoshana’s look. “Oh, and this chick was Matt’s sister. But you don’t know Matt yet.”

“He’s in my phone,” Shoshana remembered.

“Yeah, he’s a lunkhead,” Damon assessed, “and Elena’s ex, and now he’s dating Caroline, who’s Elena’s friend. She’s kind of a dim bulb, too.” He managed to avoid saying he had once been involved with Caroline himself, though he didn’t know why he felt that reluctance.

“Apparently you caused some trouble earlier,” Shoshana noted dryly.

Damon dumped a spoonful of pickle relish into his mouth. “Yeah, well—everything they said at dinner was true,” he admitted baldly. “Gotta eat.”

“You didn’t kill _Lexi_ for food.”

“I explained that already,” he reminded her shortly, tossing the spoon back down on the plate. “It was her or us.”

“You know how Stefan felt about her,” she pressed carefully. “You know what she did for him.”

Damon’s gaze skittered away to the fire. He knew. “It had to be done,” he decided firmly. “I’ve gotten a lot of mileage out of it.”

Shoshana wasn’t sure she could trust his point of view, but that was nothing new. “It wasn’t that long ago. I would’ve thought Stefan would be more upset about it still,” she observed in a neutral tone.

“Well, I let him kick my a-s at the time, that probably helped,” Damon decided, stretching out on the floor with his head propped up on his fist. “But he’s very cunning, you know,” he added thoughtfully. “People think he’s this shiny golden boy, like Lancelot—well, before the whole Guinevere thing. But he somehow managed to put his heartbreak and despondency aside”—Shoshana rolled her eyes at the sarcasm—“to weasel out of me my plan to rescue Katherine from the tomb.” He glanced over at Shoshana. “I guess he told you that part?”

“Yes,” she agreed simply. “That’s why I’m here.”

He felt there was an accusatory note in her voice. “Vancouver s—ks,” he judged succinctly. “It’s too cloudy for you. You couldn’t have liked it _that_ much.”

“I don’t want to talk about that,” she decided, clearing some of her plates away. “Let’s have dessert!” Damon sat back up as she affixed several marshmallows to a new skewer and handed it to him. “Don’t get them ashy,” she warned. “Just a nice golden brown.” She took a load of dirty dishes back into the kitchen while he sat staring into the fire, balancing the marshmallows above the flames.

She left him brooding on his own for too long. “What did you _do_ in Vancouver?” he probed distrustfully when she returned.

“I said, I don’t want to talk about it,” she repeated sharply, snapping some graham crackers in half.

Damon chose to take this as confirmation of his own suspicions. “I knew I shouldn’t have killed that f----r so quickly,” he growled.

Shoshana snatched the skewer of marshmallows from him angrily. “You’re burning them!” she accused, yanking the sugar puffs off to squash them between pieces of chocolate and graham crackers. “The people in Vancouver were nice,” she asserted tensely. “The people in Miami were nice.” They had suffered the same fate as her Vancouver family, only a few decades earlier.

There was a disturbing pattern to Damon’s interactions with the people he found sheltering Shoshana. “Well sorry, maybe you thought the man in Ohio was nice,” he replied nastily.

She couldn’t agree with his assessment and he knew it. “Just because one person wasn’t nice, doesn’t mean all the rest deserve to—“

“J---s C----t, ‘wasn’t nice’?” he interrupted. “He left bruises on you!”

“So do you,” she reminded him coldly.

There was nothing he could say to that, no matter how much he wanted to protest that he was better in some way. Instead he just growled in frustration and scooted away, farther from the light and warmth of the fire. Shoshana ate her s’mores quietly.

“Usually you find nice people,” he finally said, in a questioning way.

She shrugged tersely. “Usually.”

“You could’ve come to me,” he suggested. “You never come to me when you’re in trouble. Not even that time in Vienna, in the ‘30’s.” Her look said he must be slightly insane for thinking she would, which he had to acknowledge. “I never told Stefan about it. In Ohio,” he added.

“Don’t threaten me like that,” she snapped. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I didn’t say you did,” he agreed quickly. “Just—he’d be upset, and there’s nothing he could do about it now.”

“That’s right,” she confirmed strongly. “It was a long time ago.”

Sometimes it didn’t seem that long to him. He forced his muscles to relax a little, gingerly sliding back over to her. “Why don’t you invite Bonnie and Elena over to lunch tomorrow?” he suggested, the bribe shameless but effective. “I’ll… go out, and Stefan can keep an eye on you.”

“Really?” she asked, with slight suspicion.

“I’ve got stuff to do,” he dismissed, grabbing the remaining s’more from the plate. Eating it was against his better judgment, but then again so were a lot of things. “S—t,” he declared, as soon as his mouth closed around it.

Shoshana rolled her eyes. “Just spit it out.”

“I can’t—Arghhh!” She covered her mouth with her hand but it was hard to contain her snickers as he wrestled with the sticky marshmallow. No doubt he _thought_ popping his fangs would somehow help, but it didn’t, and only made him look more ridiculous. But at least Shoshana was laughing again, enough that she didn’t mind losing her treat. “That’s disgusting,” Damon finally declared, as though he were contemplating sponsoring a national ban for the sake of the country’s moral health. He hocked the last bit of wet s’more uncouthly into the fire.

“It’s nice of you to provide me with these fine dining experiences,” Shoshana said dryly. “I feel like we’re back at Cicero’s on Fifth Avenue.”

“I think you were older in the past,” he decided cryptically, remembering the sophisticated life they’d led at times.

“Everyone was,” she agreed. “People used to expect me and Stefan to be responsible for things! Now we’re just reckless teenagers.” She popped up suddenly. “I’m going to go take a bubble bath,” she told him blithely. “You can clean up, can’t you?” She didn’t wait for his answer.

“Don’t let society tell you who to be!” he called after her in an obnoxiously motivational tone. “I’m reckless no matter _what_ era I’m in!”

 

Damon was rearranging furniture in the kitchen when Stefan returned late that night, bearing the odor of wood smoke and stale beer. He leaned casually against the doorway, watching his brother work (for once). “How did the chasing go?” he finally asked.

Damon’s look suggested there might be emotional clean-up for Stefan to do in the morning. “She’s the klutziest creature on the planet,” he proclaimed, though his tone was subdued. “I moved _everything_ out of the way and she still managed to trip over a chair and twist her knee.” Stefan sighed heavily. “Don’t bother her, I just got her to sleep,” Damon added, though Stefan hadn’t moved. “She’ll probably be fine by morning.” He glanced at the clock on the wall, a cat with shifting eyes and a swinging tail. “Well, maybe noon.”

“She must be almost strong enough by now,” Stefan suggested. “I don’t remember it taking so long before.”

“Well, she’s got to be _stronger_ than before,” Damon decided, leaning against the table with a slightly defensive posture. “And she is _reluctant_ to accept my full attentions,” he admitted, adding in a sudden hopeful tone, “Hey, have _you_ tried? You know she likes you a lot, maybe she’d be willing to—What?” he asked when he saw Stefan’s expression.

“I can’t decide if that idea is disturbingly selfless, or horrifyingly inappropriate,” Stefan remarked dryly.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Damon claimed. “I’m not _giving_ her to you permanently or anything. Just, you know, see if you can get the motor running.”

Stefan rolled his eyes and jumped at the chance to change the subject. “And speaking of motors, how do you propose to fix my car?”

Damon chuckled at the memory of his prank, longer than Stefan felt was really necessary. “And how did _that_ go over? Tell me, tell me!”

“Sadly for you, you underestimated the broad appeal of the dragon,” Stefan reported. “I was told several times how ‘cool’ it was. There are probably pictures on Facebook.”

“I know, I saw,” Damon agreed.

“Next time try a sparkly unicorn, or perhaps Robert Pattinson,” Stefan added.

“Thanks for the suggestion,” Damon told him, but Stefan knew his car was safe from now on—his brother didn’t like to repeat himself with his practical jokes.

“Will you drive it if I buy a new car?” Stefan pressed, trying to get them back on track.

Damon scoffed at this idea, however. “Your car, aside from the awesome dragon, is the epitome of upper middle class sensibility,” he noted. “It is _loathsome_ to me. Just have it painted over,” he added in a less dramatic tone.

But Stefan felt some reluctance about this. “It’s really well-done,” he admitted. “It’s been a while since you’ve been interested in art.”

Damon ignored the second remark. “Well _you_ drive it then, dork,” he said, somehow making the insult affectionate.

Stefan couldn’t do that, either, though. “I like to fit in.” Maybe that was a silly thing to value, especially for someone with as much experience in the world as he had. But he _did_ value it, within the limits of his own moral code, of course. And there wasn’t a corollary in that code for dragon-painted cars.

Damon grinned suddenly. “Yeah, I know.” He punched Stefan’s shoulder forcefully. “I’ll paint over it tomorrow. You being boring as s—t makes me look better anyway.”

“Well thank you for your understanding,” Stefan replied dryly, rubbing his shoulder.

Damon turned to leave. “Oh, by the way, Elena and Bonnie should come over for lunch tomorrow,” he added off-hand, “and you gotta stay and babysit. And make lunch.”

“ _What?_ ” Stefan exclaimed, following him as all good feeling evaporated. “Elena and I were going to—“

“I _promised_ ,” Damon countered, indicating Shoshana upstairs in her room. Clearly _he_ was not feeling under pressure to make good on this, now that he’d passed it on to Stefan. “If the girls don’t come over she’ll make that little face—you know the one.” Damon stuck his lower lip out in an exaggerated display of sadness that did not move Stefan.

Thinking of the _real_ expression on Shoshana’s face did, however. As well Damon knew. Stefan growled in frustration as his brother sauntered gleefully away, then pulled out his phone. He hoped Elena was still awake.


	8. Chapter 8

“This is so much fun!” Shoshana said for perhaps the tenth time. They were sitting in a booth at the Grill, on her first trip away from the house since she’d come to Mystic Falls, and Damon had wedged her into the corner and kept his arm draped around her like she was made of balloons and might float away any moment. “This hamburger is _so_ good!”

Elena and Stefan glanced at each other and smiled. It had taken a lot of work to convince Damon to let her out, but as far as they were concerned it was worth it—Shoshana seemed more upbeat than she had in quite a while. Even now, however, Damon kept glancing around as if he expected vampires to jump out from behind every column.

“Relax,” Stefan suggested to him playfully. “It’s broad daylight.” Only a few of the tomb vampires had daylight rings; the rest were all confined to the indoors until darkness fell—hence why they’d come to the restaurant for lunch, not dinner. And the daywalkers were all well-known to Damon and Stefan; if any came in, they could just go right out the back door. That was the plan they’d discussed, anyway—if someone aggressive walked in Stefan wondered if Damon would really back down as agreed. It could all end very badly, especially in a public place. But to Stefan that seemed unlikely and shouldn’t condemn Shoshana to staying locked up in the house.

“Are you going to eat that?” Shoshana asked Damon, pointing to the half-bowl of spaghetti on the table before him. He’d split the entrée with Stefan and both had eaten a little for show; but human food wasn’t very appealing to them anymore.

“Help yourself,” he told her, sliding it over.

“You guys still doing okay?” the waitress asked, stopping by with more drinks.

“Could I have another smoothie, please?” Shoshana asked. “The mango berry one this time. There’s no dairy in that, right?”

“Right, all fruit,” the waitress replied, dubious about the consumption of yet another frozen treat.

“That’s not unusual at all, is it?” Damon asked her, giving her a significant look.

“No, not unusual at all,” the waitress parroted before leaving. Stefan rolled his eyes but said nothing.

“So, how big is the town now?” Shoshana wanted to know. “What other restaurants are there? What kind of stores are there? How many kids are in the school?”

“You’re not going to school,” Damon told her, seeming determined to object to something.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” she huffed at him. “I’m just _curious_. Look, it’s Bonnie!” Shoshana waved excitedly as Damon slid further down in the booth. “Come sit with us, Bonnie!”

Bonnie walked over to lean against the booth on Stefan and Elena’s side. “Wow, the dungeon master finally let you out, huh?” she said, shooting a dark look at Damon.

“The town is _so_ pretty,” Shoshana told her by way of agreement. “A lot has changed since I saw it last. I’d like to drive around and look at it more,” she hinted.

“No,” Damon shot down immediately. Predictably. “You’ve got an hour and a half left of your two hours, then we go home.”

“Anyway, I already ate,” Bonnie told them. “But I was going to play some pool. You wanna join me?” She glanced at both Elena and Shoshana.

Significant looks bounced around the table. “Yes,” Elena declared. She grabbed Shoshana’s hand across the table and practically dragged her out, with the boys forced to get out of the way or be trampled.

Stefan put his hand out to stop Damon when his brother started to follow the girls. “I don’t think we were invited,” he pointed out dryly. Fortunately the booth offered a good view of the pool table, at least if Damon sat sideways in his seat. “She looks happy,” Stefan observed leadingly as the waitress returned with Shoshana’s smoothie and filled his coffee cup.

Damon was loathe to admit it. “Well, she’s getting stronger.” Shoshana was out of view for an instant walking around the far side of Bonnie and he made a show of stretching up in his seat to keep her in sight.

“So, no more chasing?” Stefan asked hopefully. He was getting tired of being interrupted every night, and so was Elena. He’d hoped that Damon’s agreement to let Shoshana out of the house meant she was strong enough to maintain a healthy level of power on her own.

“Please.” Damon rolled his eyes as though Stefan were being unrealistic. “She’s not _that_ strong.”

“There _are_ other ways to get her power up,” Stefan reminded him, sipping his coffee.

“I _know_ ,” Damon shot back, “and I’m _working_ on that. She’s not very receptive to my attentions, as I have repeatedly told you.”

Stefan sighed. “It just doesn’t usually take you this long,” he noted.

“G-d, you know how to hurt a guy,” Damon complained.

“Sorry,” Stefan smirked. “Well, if she’s not receptive, she’s not receptive,” he agreed. “Thank you for not proceeding anyway.”

Damon gave him a sideways glance and reached across the table to steal Stefan’s coffee cup. “Don’t act like I’m a better person than I really am,” he warned his brother, knocking back the rest of the beverage and returning the empty cup. “I just don’t think it would _work_ that way.”

“Take a compliment every now and then,” Stefan advised. He dropped his voice to a mutter that only Damon could hear. “All I said was you weren’t a rapist. Most people would consider that went without saying.” He signaled for the waitress to refill his coffee cup.

Damon snickered darkly. “Oh, family can talk about _anything_ ,” he said breezily. His gaze was drawn to the pool table, where Elena was helping Shoshana line up a shot, with her arm around the other girl. “And right now I’d like to talk about—“

“No,” Stefan interrupted him, nonetheless staring in the same direction, coffee cup forgotten halfway to his lips. “Shoshana _knows_ how to play pool,” he remembered suddenly. “Well, maybe she’s just being polite.”

“She is not that polite to _me_ ,” Damon noted, leaning forward slightly. Shoshana flubbed the shot and this time Bonnie tried to help her out. “She flirts with other girls,” he reminded Stefan, gaze not straying. “Some kind of Victorian suppressed lesbian tendencies. Maybe related to corsets.”

“What?” Stefan asked after a minute, finally turning to look at Damon when the girls separated. “What did you say?”

“I have no idea,” Damon admitted. “ _Did_ I say something?”

“I think we’ve had this discussion before,” Stefan decided with a smirk.

“Do you remember that desperate housewife we lived next door to in 1957?” Damon asked, leaning across the table. He took possession of Stefan’s coffee cup again.

“The one who drank too much and always wanted me to come over and fix her appliances,” Stefan nodded. “Do you want your _own_ coffee?”

“Yeah, ‘fix her appliances,’” Damon agreed, rolling his eyes at the pretense. “No,” he added, regarding the coffee. “It’s just like that with Elena. Remember how cozy Shoshana was with, er, Debbie? Always doing each other’s hair, trying on clothes together, hugging, slept in the same bed when she came over crying that one time…”

Stefan frowned, trying to remember as he took back his coffee cup. The memories were perfectly intact; it was just a matter of bringing them up. “Debbie was crying because her husband hit her,” he recalled. “Didn’t you kill her husband?”

Damon shrugged as if it were of little importance. “Probably. But let’s get back to the lesbian tendencies.”

“Victorian sisterhood thing,” Stefan nodded. They _had_ had this conversation before. “It’s inappropriate to flirt with men, but you can do whatever you want with other women.”

“Exactly,” Damon agreed, a huge grin on his face. “Is she perfect or _what_?”

“Except she won’t have sex with _you_ ,” Stefan pointed out dryly.

Damon had momentarily forgotten that. “Well there you go, bringing me down again,” he replied indignantly, snatching the coffee cup back and draining it. “Are these things getting smaller or what?” he asked in annoyance.

Stefan rolled his eyes and signaled for another coffee refill. “Could we have a second cup, please?” he requested of the waitress.

They both watched silently as Shoshana and Elena embraced after one of them made a good shot. “Do you think Elena—“ Damon began to speculate.

“Don’t even say it,” Stefan warned. No point in telling him not to _think_ about it, because they both clearly were.

“ _Hmm_ ,” was Damon’s only reply. “Any chance _you_ and Shoshana could—“

“Didn’t I tell you _no_ earlier?” Stefan asked him pointedly. “Did you _forget_?”

“Well, J---s, don’t get snippy,” Damon protested. “I wasn’t going to suggest doing it behind Elena’s back or anything.” He shrugged innocently. “You could do it right in front of her face if you wanted.”

“Enough,” Stefan told him more seriously. “It’s not gonna be that way now.” Though it was more the execution than the theory that bothered him.

Damon rolled his eyes, then let out a downbeat hum as he saw Caroline and Matt enter the scene. Elena introduced them to Shoshana.

“Well, she and Caroline should have plenty to talk about,” Stefan remarked.

Damon completely missed the rebuke. “Caroline’s very open-minded,” he commented instead. “They should all become _friends_.” The waitress set his own cup of coffee in front of him, which of course he didn’t touch.

“She’s uncomfortable around Matt,” Stefan observed. “She wasn’t uncomfortable around Jeremy or Ric.”

“Guest-hostess thing,” Damon theorized. “G-d, she’s cute when she’s all shy.” Stefan turned to him with a raised eyebrow as Damon added in alarm, “What did I just say?”

“Maybe you’ve been listening to too much Taylor Swift,” Stefan teased.

Jeremy and some other kids from school soon drifted over to the pool table, drawn by the prospect of a new face. “No, no, no, it’s too many people now,” Damon muttered. “She’s going to flip out.”

Stefan put a hand on his shoulder to hold him back. “Calm down, let Elena handle it,” he advised. Sure enough, as they watched Elena put an arm around Shoshana’s shoulders and eased her away from the cluster of new faces and back over to just Bonnie.

“Oh, she’s good,” Damon admired. Shoshana turned in his direction and gave a little smile and wave, and he raised his hand to wave back before he could stop himself. “Grrr,” he growled in frustration as Stefan chuckled at him. “If I don’t get her in bed soon I’m going to end up buying her a stuffed animal,” he grumbled, as though this were the nadir of affectionate displays.

Stefan shook his head. “Kitten. Kitten is the last resort.”

“Well, you’d probably eat it, so…” Suddenly Damon grinned. “Hey, no eating Shoshana’s—“

“Don’t even,” Stefan interrupted. “So. Juvenile.”

“Oh my G-d,” Damon said suddenly, and Stefan swiveled around to look back at the pool table. “Tyler is _hitting on her_ , that little—“

Stefan pushed Damon back into his seat. “He’s just talking to her,” he corrected. “Okay, his body language is a little—“ He shoved Damon back again. “Let Elena handle it,” he repeated. “She’s keeping an eye on her.” As if on cue Elena came along and said something to Tyler with a big smile on her face, and the teen boy turned to look nervously at the booth.

Damon smiled and raised his coffee cup at him. “That’s right, a-shole, talk to her again and I will rip your tongue out of your mouth,” he threatened under his breath. Tyler got the gist of Damon’s expression and found someplace else to be.

“Jealousy does not look good on you,” Stefan teased.

“Everything looks good on me,” Damon shot back in a disgruntled tone.

A few minutes later Shoshana came bouncing over. “Here, drink your smoothie,” Damon told her, pushing the concoction at her.

She sat down and took a few sips. “Did you see Caroline and Matt? Aren’t they nice?” she asked excitedly.

“No, they’re boring as s—t,” Damon replied crudely. “You can be friends with them, though. Stay away from Tyler, he’s a jerk.”

“Well, I don’t like jerks,” Shoshana deadpanned and Stefan smothered a grin.

“Eat your hamburger,” Damon advised, passing her plate to her.

“So Matt and Elena used to date,” Shoshana checked as she continued her lunch. Stefan nodded. She glanced at Damon. “And you and Caroline dated.”

“Don’t give me that look,” he told her. “You weren’t around. I hadn’t seen you in thirty years. It was only a relationship of convenience, anyway. I never really liked her. You could’ve been seeing other people, too.”

Shoshana stared at him after this outburst. “He’s feeling kind of angsty today,” Stefan informed her, with mock sympathy.

Shoshana nodded slowly. “He _has_ been listening to a lot of Taylor Swift lately,” she noted and Stefan laughed as Damon rolled his eyes. “Oh, can I have some money?” she asked Damon.

“What for?” he questioned suspiciously.

“They have a jukebox!” she replied with excitement. He had to crane his neck in order to find it, having never noticed it before. “I want to make it play some songs.”

Damon started digging in his pockets. “What does it take? Quarters?” He snapped his fingers at Stefan, who sighed and reached into his pockets as well. “Here. But you have to promise you’ll only dance with Elena. Or Bonnie or Caroline. But not with any of those nasty boys. Who have cooties, by the way.” Stefan added a few more coins to the pile.

“Oh, I wasn’t going to dance,” Shoshana assured him. “I just wanted to listen. Maybe if it’s a slow song…”

“Yes, please dance with Elena to a slow song,” Damon requested with a remarkably straight face. “Right here, where Stefan and I can keep an eye on both of you.”

Shoshana narrowed her eyes at him, then switched to a little smile. “Okay. I bet Elena’s a _very_ good dancer. Right, Stefan?”

“Um, hmm,” Stefan answered inarticulately, his throat having gone dry. Shoshana scooted out of the booth and bounced away with her money as he gulped his coffee.

“Little minx,” Damon declared, when he could speak again. “She knows _exactly_ what she’s doing.”

“She’s driving you crazy,” Stefan nodded.

“That would be _us_ ,” Damon correctly observed.

Stefan considered this. “Maybe I should’ve given her more quarters.”

The waitress came around with the coffee pot again. “Can I get you anything else?” she asked intrusively.

“Whiskey, neat,” Damon ordered automatically. Stefan coughed. “Change that. Jack and Coke. And you saw my ID, it’s fine.”

“Jack and Coke. Your ID’s fine,” the waitress repeated dully before leaving.

“Now I’m enabling your alcoholic tendencies,” Stefan sighed, seemingly serious. Damon scoffed. “Hiding the booze from people who disapprove?” he pointed out. “And what do you even _need_ it for now?”

“Curbs the cravings,” Damon assured him.

“What cravings?” Stefan wanted to know. “Doesn’t she feed you whenever you want?”

“The _other_ cravings,” Damon insisted and Stefan rolled his eyes. “Besides, it tastes good.”

“I suppose you could stop drinking whenever you wanted,” Stefan predicted, but Damon saw through his game.

“What are you worried about? It’s not _actually_ bad for my health,” he dismissed. “I like pickles for the taste, too,” he added, popping one from Shoshana’s plate into his mouth. They were one of the few human foods whose flavor was still palatable to his retuned taste buds.

A few minutes later. “Okay, so I’m Edward,” Stefan agreed dubiously. The conversations he put up with, just to spare Elena and her friends from Damon’s looming, discomfiting presence. “And Elena is Bella.”

“Naturally,” Damon confirmed. “And Shoshana is Alice, and I’m Jasper. The misunderstood Civil War vet with a difficult past,” he described in a nobly long-suffering tone.

“Oh please. You were a deserter.”

“So was Jasper!” Damon claimed. Stefan had not read the books in question, so he couldn’t counter that. “And, hmm…” He gazed at the young humans playing pool. “Matt and Caroline are Emmett and Rosalie.”

“Who’s Jeremy?” Stefan wanted to know.

Damon dismissed him. “Not applicable. Now who would play our alarmingly youthful parents?”

That one seemed obvious to Stefan. “Ric and Jenna.”

Damon choked on his drink. “Oh my G-d. We _are_ _Twilight_.” Suddenly this game wasn’t fun anymore, not when the characters overlapped _that_ well.

“Isn’t there a werewolf in it, too?” Stefan remembered, trying to keep Damon’s attention from straying. “A rival for Bella’s affections. So shouldn’t _that_ be Matt?”

“No, that messes everything up,” Damon pointed out, finding satisfaction in the symmetry even as it disturbed him. “Just ignore all the werewolves. Forget about them. They’re totally unrealistic anyway.”

“Right, the sparkly vampires are textbook-perfect,” Stefan noted dryly. Damon didn’t answer as his eyes drifted towards the pool table—staring with intent—and Stefan struggled to distract him with another topic. “Let’s do Anne Rice.”

“Not enough girls,” Damon countered. “I’m Lestat, though.” Of course he was. “And you’re Louis, because you’re conflicted about feeding on humans. Ooh, which makes Elena Claudia,” he added excitedly as Stefan rolled his eyes. “Trapped in the body of a child forever. Kinky!”

“So you’re Tom Cruise and I’m Brad Pitt?” Stefan checked, knowing this wouldn’t go over well.

“I follow only the books as canon, _not_ the movies,” Damon sniffed haughtily. “But if we _were_ doing movies,” he added quickly, “I would be Lestat in _Queen of the Damned_ , and Shoshana could be Akasha.”

“Shoshana as the ancient first vampire queen who kills everybody?” Stefan summarized dryly.

“Yeah, it really doesn’t work as well,” Damon agreed. “Ooh, okay, Shoshana is Sookie Stackhouse.”

“And you’re Bill?” Stefan asked in confusion. “Well, Civil War vet… Have you noticed how many of those there are in vampire literature?”

“And they’re all Confederates,” Damon agreed. “Gives them an air of romantic tragedy. But of _course_ I wouldn’t be Bill, he’s lame. I would be Eric. You would be Bill.”

“Thanks,” Stefan replied. “Sookie is _Bill’s_ girlfriend.”

“But there’s so much sexual tension between her and Eric, it’s bound to explode soon,” Damon judged. “Oh, well, I guess that _does_ apply more to me and Elena.” Stefan rolled his eyes again. “So Elena can be Sookie. Shoshana would be, um… No, that doesn’t really work.”

“So, _Twilight_ it is,” Stefan concluded.

“If Matt were Jacob, then Caroline would be Renesmee,” Damon decided thoughtfully, and Stefan frowned at him. “The half-vampire, half-human child that Bella and Edward have?”

“Wait, Jacob falls for _her_?” Stefan asked. “How far in the future do these books go? Do werewolves not age, or--”

“Oh, it’s so much creepier than that,” Damon assured him with delight. “You need to read these! It will take you, literally, ten minutes a book. I should be there when you read _Breaking Dawn_ , though, because you might get scared.”

“Your presence comforts me,” Stefan agreed dryly.

“Are you two talking about _Twilight_?” Bonnie scoffed as the group drifted over to the booth.

“Caroline turned me on to it,” Damon replied, giving the blond a narrow look. She was clearly not sure it was good to be noticed by him and took Matt’s hand.

“We need a character for Bonnie to be,” Stefan said playfully, trying to make their conversation seem normal. As normal as two guys talking about _Twilight_ could be, that is.

“Maybe she could be Bella’s friend Jessica,” Damon suggested innocently. The look Bonnie gave him indicated this wasn’t a plum part.

Stefan and Damon scooted over so Elena and Shoshana, respectively, could join them. “Oh, I don’t like supernatural romance books,” Shoshana declared. “They’re so creepy.” It was hard to tell if she was joking or not.

Bonnie slid in next to Elena and Matt tried to take the seat beside Shoshana, causing her to tense up. “No,” Damon countermanded, attuned to her every move. “Caroline can sit there.” Shoshana relaxed as the blond girl sat down beside her, though several other people rolled their eyes. Matt and Jeremy dragged chairs over as Damon summoned the waitress. “Greasy appetizer sampler platter,” he ordered. “Put it on my tab. And bring me another of these,” he added, indicating his nearly empty glass.

Shoshana tried a sip of the drink. “Ugh, that’s gross,” she commented, wrinkling her nose. “I thought it was Coke.”

“It’s diet,” Damon claimed mildly, which really made no sense at all, but Shoshana was on to something new quickly.

“I love your fingernails,” she cooed to Caroline, unnecessarily holding her hand atop the table. Damon watched intensely, his hand covering part of his expression. “Where do you have them done?”

“I do them myself,” Caroline bragged. She was insecure enough that any compliment was welcomed, no matter if it was accompanied by extra physical contact. “I could do yours sometime,” she offered, examining Shoshana’s short, plain fingertips. “There’s not much to work with, but I could try,” she added in her backhanded way.

Shoshana looked uncertainly at Damon. “I hate the smell of fingernail polish,” he commented, and that squashed _that_ idea.

Shoshana was quick to recover, though. “Maybe you could do my hair,” she suggested instead, playing with a lock of Caroline’s. “Your hair is _so_ pretty.” A look bounced between Matt and Jeremy, which Stefan studiously avoided as though nothing odd were going on. Damon was outright staring at the two girls anyway.

“I could do something with your hair, I think,” Caroline agreed, examining Shoshana’s critically. Suddenly her eyes lit up. “Oh my G-d, I have an idea! Let’s have a sleepover and we can do makeovers!” she said excitedly, her gaze encompassing Elena and Bonnie as well.

“Sure, sounds fun,” Bonnie agreed immediately.

“Yeah, we haven’t done that in a while,” Elena added, her hesitation more about whether Shoshana was going to be allowed to participate.

Stefan, meanwhile, was glancing at his brother in alarm—Damon had his hand over his eyes, which were turning faintly red. Apparently the idea of the four girls in a sleepover was too much for him.

“What’s wrong?” Bonnie asked him pointedly.

“Contact,” he claimed quickly. Finally he got himself back under control and slurped his drink noisily, signaling the waitress to bring him yet another.

“ _Please_ , can I go to a sleepover?” Shoshana asked him, her hand on his arm.

Oh, he so wanted to say yes, though frankly the mere _idea_ of it would fill a lot of empty moments in his day (and night). And the right answer would defuse the odd looks the others were giving them, wondering why she’d asked permission from him in the first place. But there was no way he was letting her out of the house at night.

“Maybe the sleepover could be at _our_ house,” Stefan suggested, swooping in when he saw Damon’s expression.

“Well… I guess,” Damon allowed. He didn’t want to seem too enthusiastic about that idea in case it scared them off. “If you want.”

“That’s _so exciting_ ,” Shoshana squealed, looping her arm through Caroline’s. “I haven’t had a sleepover in _forever_! My bed’s pretty big, I think we’ll all fit just fine.”

Elena quickly laughed pleasantly, as though Shoshana had made a joke. “I think I’ve got an extra sleeping bag, if you don’t have one,” she assured the other girl. “Although it might be an ugly lime green one I got in junior high!”

“Oh my G-d, do you still have that?” Caroline asked with disdain as Bonnie laughed.

Shoshana quickly picked up on her faux pas and nodded along, though Elena suspected she was disappointed they wouldn’t all be in the same bed. Now that Elena was able to observe her interacting with other people she could see how Shoshana was a little more… affectionate than people might expect.

Though it was only the boys who seemed to find it awkward.

“But _you_ have to promise not to bother us,” Elena warned Damon, encompassing Stefan as well for fairness.

“Of course,” Stefan agreed immediately. Damon was staring at Shoshana stroking the fabric of Caroline’s shirt in an admiring way and Stefan had to kick him under the table to get his attention.

“Huh? Oh, sure, whatever,” Damon agreed distractedly. “Uh, like I’d care what you were doing. Me and Stefan will stay upstairs watching manly movies in which people die in messy ways.”

“Oh, there’s a couple new foreign films out on DVD I’ve been meaning to see—“ Stefan began to suggest.

“Please, don’t embarrass me in public with your nerdiness,” Damon told him. “We can do a _Saw_ marathon.”

The insult barely registered with Stefan. “Do you two want to join us?” he asked Jeremy and Matt politely. “It could be Polish post-modernism, or a _Saw_ marathon,” he added dryly.

Matt was obviously not sure whether to take the entertainment options seriously or not, but he could easily interpret Damon’s disapproving expression. “No. Thanks, though.”

Stefan gave Damon a look and his brother sighed under the weight of proper hospitality. “Oh come on,” he said without enthusiasm. “Free beer?”

“I’m in,” Jeremy agreed excitedly.

“No beer,” Elena countered sharply, glaring at her younger brother. Damon winked at him conspiratorially, now interested in inviting him if it bothered her.

“Uh, sure, why not,” Matt finally said, more because Jeremy was going than for the alleged beer. “What’s Polish post…modernism?” Stefan started to explain, trying not to make it sound _too_ unappealing.

“Thank you,” Shoshana told Damon shyly as the others listened to Stefan, and Damon’s eyes locked on her, the beginnings of a possible genuine smile tugging at his lips. This did not go unnoticed by Stefan and Elena, though they tried not to draw attention to it.

“So you’ve graduated, right?” Jeremy asked Shoshana after a moment, quickly tiring of the Polish post-modernism description. “What are you gonna do in town? Get a job?” At his age freedom from schoolwork—and a steady cash supply—seemed fascinating and desirable.

“Um, well—“ Shoshana began uncomfortably. “I’m not really sure what kind of job I would get… Don’t you work here, Matt?” she asked, turning the spotlight on him. “Is that fun?”

“Well, I wouldn’t call it _fun_ , exactly,” he admitted. “I heard they’re looking for more servers, though—“

“Oh, you don’t need a _job_ , honey,” Damon interrupted, his sickly-sweet tone killing the goodwill he’d generated with her earlier. “Your place is really in the home. No one else can iron my shirts like you can!”

Scoffs met this declaration, while Shoshana gave him a narrow look. “Someone is gonna set you on fire one of these days,” Bonnie warned.

“Ooh, that sounded kind of _witchy_ ,” Damon tossed back obnoxiously.

“Maybe you could volunteer somewhere,” Matt suggested helpfully. “There’s an animal shelter in town…”

“It’s kind of smelly, though,” Caroline reminded them, wrinkling her nose.

“Stefan’s the animal-lover in the family,” Damon commented innocently. “I’m more of a people person myself.” Those who knew what he really meant glared at him.

Shoshana turned her back on Damon, preferring instead to admire the earrings of Caroline, her new best friend. Which was perfectly okay with Damon, who watched them over the rim of his third (or was it fourth?) Jack and Coke. Stefan slid out his phone as the conversation continued and typed a text message discreetly under the table. _Stop perving_ , he admonished.

Damon pulled out his phone when it buzzed, read the message, and sent back a reply, haphazardly typed with one hand. There were several typos, but the result forcefully urged Stefan to mind his own business.

Which Stefan did, not bothering to point out when the allotted two hours out of the house had been exceeded. Shoshana was certainly not unaware of the effect her behavior had on Damon and she wanted to stay with her new friends, so she showed no hesitation about pulling Bonnie’s hand across the table to compare her manicure to Caroline’s, or reaching over to wipe some nacho cheese off Elena’s face. Damon was too busy burning every image into his memory to look anywhere else.

Eventually, though, he had to catch on. “S—t,” he said suddenly, glancing towards the window. “It’s getting dark!” He hoisted himself out of the booth and climbed over the barrier to the next one, which was fortunately unoccupied. Everyone was staring at him. “Come on, let’s go,” he demanded of Shoshana, pulling her up.

“What, do you turn into a pumpkin or something?” Caroline dared to ask sarcastically as Damon lifted Shoshana up and over as well.

Damon gave her a glare that reminded her why she never spoke to him. “You tricked me,” he accused Shoshana angrily, setting her on the floor and dragging her towards the door.

The others quickly rearranged themselves so Stefan and Elena could get out with less drama. “Here, for the tip,” Stefan said, dropping a generous amount of cash on the table. “Feel free to order more if you want.” He and Elena hurried after the other two.

Damon had Shoshana’s upper arm in a death grip out on the sidewalk and his eyes were blazing with fury. “I told you _two hours_ , just _two_ , and now it’s almost dark out—“

“I just wanted to spend time with my friends—“ Shoshana protested in a small voice, shrinking away from him.

“Damon!” Stefan hissed. “Not here.”

Damon turned to him with a dangerous look. “So was this just Shoshana’s idea, or a conspiracy between the three of you?” he accused nastily.

“She was having a good time!” Elena protested angrily, which Stefan felt really didn’t help the situation.

“Let’s just go home—“ he suggested quickly.

“Well where’s the g-----n car?!” Damon snapped, looking around.

“It’s around the block,” Stefan assured him.

“Come on, we’ll cut through here,” Damon decided, heading for the alley. “And they’re _not_ your friends, they’re _Elena’s_ friends.”

“Damon!” Elena exclaimed, truly shocked.

“I mean, they don’t even know you yet, so they can’t be _friends_ ,” Damon clarified, softening while still sounding mean. “Do you not understand what could happen to you after dark?” he demanded of Shoshana, shaking her. “This isn’t just some stupid rule I made up—“

“Stop it,” Stefan told him, getting between the two of them before Shoshana could get hurt.

Damon growled in the back of his throat threateningly and Elena’s eyes widened in alarm. Before he could spit out whatever caustic remark he was forming, though, there was a movement behind them. “Hey, uh, you’re the Salvatore brothers, right?” said a skinny guy in a hoodie, skulking in the shadows of the alley.

“F—k off,” Damon told him succinctly, as Stefan pulled Elena closer to him.

“Hey, man, it’s cool,” the skinny guy claimed placatingly, but he didn’t leave.

Damon let Shoshana go and instead slammed the stranger up against the brick wall, his feet dangling above the concrete. Shoshana, sniffling, scrambled behind Stefan to join Elena. “What do you want,” Damon snarled at the interloper, “and it had better. Be. Good.”

“I’m really hungry, man,” the guy said. He grinned unsettlingly and the skin around his eyes started to redden. “And she smells _so_ good.” He looked straight at Shoshana.

“Let’s go,” Elena whispered to Shoshana, thinking they didn’t need to witness what would happen to the strange vampire.

“Wait,” Stefan countered. “Who else is with you?” he demanded of the scraggly young man, glancing towards either end of the alley.

“No one, dude,” he claimed. “I just got bored hangin’ around all day. Bored and hungry.”

“I don’t recognize you,” Damon decided, not letting him go. “Are you new?” The man shrugged unhelpfully.

“But you’re with Katherine,” Stefan tried to confirm. “Where are you staying during the day?”

“Some old house on the edge of town,” he said vaguely. “Look, man, I just want a bite. I won’t kill her. Promise.” He grinned toothily—possibly the least trustworthy smile ever.

“You want a bite of her, huh?” Damon asked. Elena turned Shoshana away, certain the stranger’s head was about to be ripped from his body. Then Damon suddenly dropped him. “Fine.” He reached around and grabbed Shoshana’s arm, dragging her closer to the stranger even as Stefan and Elena protested.

“Damon, don’t!” Stefan tried to break his brother’s grip but he was too strong—one shove sent Stefan sprawling back against the opposite wall.

“ _This_ is exactly what I was talking about!” Damon pointed out to Shoshana as she squealed and tried to brace her feet against the gravel of the alley. “This is what happens when you stay out after dark in a vampire town.” She was sobbing now as he pulled her closer to the fully-fanged strange vampire, who was practically drooling with anticipation. Elena jerked on Damon’s arm but she was about as effective as a light breeze. “Here, bite her,” Damon told the vampire, shoving Shoshana at him.

“Don’t do it,” Stefan warned him, up for a second round. Damon easily held him off. “She’ll kill you.”

“Don’t bite me, please,” Shoshana begged. “Damon, _please_!”

The smirk on his face was cold and wicked and immobile. “Go ahead. Taste her,” he tempted the vampire. “She tastes even better than she smells. Hey!” he snapped. “No need to be messy, just do the wrist.”

“Oh, okay,” the vampire agreed, backing away from her neck. Over Shoshana, Stefan, and Elena’s protests he grabbed her arm and bit into her wrist.

“Don’t scream,” Damon warned Shoshana.

As soon as her blood was released Stefan spun away, backing further down the wall, doubled up as if in pain, his fangs popping involuntarily. “Stefan!” Elena exclaimed, not sure if she should run to him or not.

“Smells good, doesn’t she?” Damon taunted him. “You could have some any time you wanted. Then maybe you’d actually be strong enough to stop me doing things like this.”

“Make him _stop_ , Damon!” Elena ordered fiercely, referring to the new vampire. She ran to the nearby dumpster looking for a weapon in its contents.

“Don’t have to,” Damon pointed out with a smirk. “He’s done.” Elena turned to look, afraid of what that might mean.

The other vampire had dropped Shoshana’s arm and was backing away from her, his eyes glazed. His feed had lasted only seconds and his expression was twisted, almost nauseous. Elena signaled for Shoshana to come to her and the other girl did so, racing behind Damon. “Watch!” he commanded them. “Stefan! Watch.”

Elena didn’t know quite what she expected to see. One moment the other vampire stood there stiffly, like he’d just been punched in the gut and was still trying to figure out why—then his skin started to wither and crack like the pages of an old book, and in a moment he turned to ash before their eyes, nothing more than a grayish pile on the gravel. It was almost anticlimactic in its speed and silence.

“And no body to dispose of,” Damon commented with a dark grin.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, shh, shh,” Elena was saying to the other girl, holding her tight in her arms. “It’s okay, it’s over.” Stefan sat on the ground, knees drawn up, staring at his hands, shame and disappointment in himself written across his face.

“You’re getting blood on you,” Damon pointed out helpfully to Elena. The two girls separated to see that Shoshana’s wound had bled onto Elena’s shirt, and they tried to stifle it with Shoshana’s sleeve, the only thing at hand. Damon started to reach into his pocket. “Here, I think I have a—“ Elena took the opportunity to slap him across the face, his head snapping sideways with the force of the blow he was unprepared for. It didn’t really hurt him, of course, but getting slapped like that—especially by Elena—was humiliating. When he turned to her again his expression was dark, but she glared right back. Shoshana’s eyes were huge as she stared at them, as if she’d never contemplated doing such a thing before.

“Back off,” Elena ordered him, and though he didn’t actually move away, he didn’t follow when the girls stepped away from _him_. Stefan scrambled to his feet and ducked around the corner, unable to handle the scent of fresh blood being a few centimeters closer.

“Okay, just hold that there for now,” Elena told Shoshana in a reasonably steady voice, “and we’ll wrap it up when we get home.”

“I’ll get the car,” Damon decided, starting to saunter past them.

“We’re not going home with you,” Elena told him flatly. “Shoshana’s staying the night at _my_ house.” She pushed past him to leave the alley, her arm firmly around the other girl.

“Wait a minute—“ Damon began to protest, but Stefan grabbed him suddenly and shoved him hard against the wall.

“Let them go,” he commanded, “or I _will_ find a way to _make_ you, I swear to G-d.”

Damon snarled in the back of his throat but Stefan didn’t blink. Elena glanced back over her shoulder to make sure the boys were staying behind, then squeezed Shoshana closer and kept walking. Damon pushed Stefan off, just to show that he could, but didn’t follow them.

“Well are _you_ gonna trail them?” Damon finally asked his brother, as the girls crossed the street to the next block.

“No, I’m not,” Stefan told him firmly. “They don’t want to see either of us right now.”

“It’s eight blocks to Elena’s house!” Damon pointed out, keeping them in sight. “We know there was _one_ vampire out and drawn to her, there could be others.”

Of this, Stefan was painfully aware. “But thanks to you, now we also know she can protect herself,” he shot back darkly. “Why do you have to be such a b-----d?”

“Why do you have to be such a p---y?” Damon snapped in return. “You were such a f‑‑‑‑‑g perfect little human, and now you’re a g-----n disappointment as a vampire!” Stefan rolled his eyes, vowing not to get drawn into an argument that went all the way back to their human days. “You know she wouldn’t mind it,” Damon hissed, getting into Stefan’s face now that the girls had turned the corner. “She would be happy to help you. What is your f-----g problem?”

Stefan refused to be diverted. “No, _I_ don’t have a problem, it’s _you_ that has a problem,” he countered, pushing Damon back. “How could you do that to her? How could you let someone hurt her, when you claim you love her?”

Damon’s entire body screamed his defensiveness. “She wanted to stay out after dark, _this_ is what happens,” he claimed. “I warned her, I tried to protect her, she wouldn’t—“

“You’re not trying to protect her, you’re trying to _control_ her,” Stefan interrupted sharply. “You don’t want anyone else to get their hands on your secret weapon, because they might treat her a little bit better than you do and then her power would go to them instead.”

“No, that’s not true,” Damon sputtered immediately. His expression was shocked, like it had been the _first_ time Elena had slapped him. Unfortunately, Stefan didn’t think this meant he was wrong.

“It doesn’t even have to be,” Stefan allowed, shaking his head. “Whenever you find something to love you just crush it. You suffocate it and you burn it and you grind it under your foot and then you see if it still loves you. And then you get angry when it doesn’t, after you’ve done all you can to break it.” Damon was breathing hard now, even though he didn’t need to breathe, and his eyes were turning red with fury. Stefan didn’t let it stop him. “You deserve to lose her,” he finished distinctly.

Fangs fully extended Damon dove at his brother, but changed course at the last second. Stefan was knocked to the ground, leaving a crack in the sidewalk, but when he looked around Damon had vanished.

 

“There, that’s not so bad,” Elena soothed, rinsing Shoshana’s wrist under the cool water in her bathroom. The drying blood dissolved and swirled pink down the drain. Elena decided against disinfecting the wound—Damon never did, though that wasn’t much of a recommendation—and just dabbed it dry, then applied a large bandage to the other girl’s wrist. She hadn’t said much since they’d arrived at Elena’s house, though her crying had calmed to sniffles at least.

“Now let’s see what we can do about your shirt, okay?” Elena put her in one of Jenna’s old sweatshirts and then changed her own top, leaving both to soak in the bathroom sink. Jeremy would probably freak out when he saw it, due to an embarrassing incident with a pair of panties years ago, but that was just tough.

Elena heard her aunt rustling around the kitchen and pulled Shoshana downstairs. “Hi, Jenna,” she opened.

“Oh my G-d, are you okay?” Jenna asked immediately, looking at Shoshana’s red-rimmed eyes and baleful expression. “What happened?” Shoshana hugged her as soon as she came within reach, which was slightly startling for the older woman.

“Fight with Damon,” Elena explained vaguely. “Is it okay if she stays the night?”

“Oh, well, sure,” Jenna agreed. “Let me just, um, put fresh sheets on the guest bed—“

Shoshana finally let her go as Elena said, “Oh, actually, I was thinking she could sleep in _my_ bed, with me.” Having done it several times now at the boarding house it didn’t seem strange to her anymore, but she could tell from her aunt’s expression that she found it a little odd.

“Please?” Shoshana begged Jenna earnestly. “I promise we won’t stay up too late talking!”

“Uh, sure, whatever you want,” Jenna told them, and Shoshana embraced her again. Elena tried to convey to her aunt that she would explain later… somehow. “Uh, what happened to your wrist?” Jenna asked, by way of distracting Shoshana. Jenna was not the most touchy-feely person in the world, at least when sober.

Shoshana pulled back finally. Her guilty expression, and Elena’s failure to come up with a convincing explanation, led Jenna to assume the worst. “Wait— _Damon_ didn’t do this to you, did he?” she asked with sudden seriousness.

“Oh, no,” Shoshana replied quickly.

“But he _let_ it happen,” Elena added angrily, which was certainly true. “Because he’s selfish, and he doesn’t care about anyone but himself.”

Shoshana looked pained at these words but Jenna’s cynical, knowing look appeared. “Welcome to the world of men,” she declared. “Some days I think we’d all be better off with a bottle of red wine and a vibrator.”

“Aunt Jenna!” Elena said in a shocked tone, though she was laughing a little. Shoshana turned bright red.

“And speaking of wine,” Jenna went on, heading back to the kitchen, “not that I’m encouraging underage drinking, but if there was ever a reason to finish off this bottle—“ She offered it up questioningly.

“I don’t drink,” Shoshana said politely.

“Oh.” Jenna was clearly disappointed. “Um—then how ‘bout we order greasy pizza for dinner?”

“I could _make_ you a pizza,” Shoshana suggested excitedly.

The idea perked her up so much that Elena decided to encourage it. “Yeah, that’d be great. Shoshana loves to cook,” she assured Jenna as the other girl marched authoritatively into the kitchen to take stock of her resources. “It’ll take her mind off things,” she added in a lower voice.

 

By the end of the evening Jeremy had had several shocks, first coming home to a handmade meal, then finding bloody clothes in the shared bathroom sink, and finally spotting Shoshana getting into bed with his sister. Elena almost laughed at him but didn’t want to confuse him further.

She’d only had a brief conversation with Stefan—“Are you okay?” “Yes. Are you?” “Yes.” “Okay”—and frankly that was fine with her. She loved Stefan, she really did, and she knew he did all he could to help Shoshana and keep Damon in line—but sometimes the drama he carried around was just too much for her. Not too much overall, just too much at specific moments, like when he was curled up on the ground like a drug addict while her friend was getting attacked and his brother was standing there laughing. And the thought flashed through her mind, uncharitable though brief, that she wouldn’t be in this situation at all if it weren’t for him. She always hastened to add that she would take the bad with the good, that she would learn to tolerate Damon if he came with Stefan, but—sometimes she just needed a little space. And Stefan, because he was a wonderful, decent person, understood that and didn’t push.

Which kind of made her miss him suddenly.

Shoshana snuggled up next to her contentedly. “Thanks for letting me spend the night,” she told Elena. “I love sleepovers!” Then her face fell. “Oh, I wonder if Damon will still let me have the one with the four of us,” she worried.

“Listen, Shoshana, you are such a sweet person,” Elena began. She’d been preparing this speech all evening. “The way Damon treats you—you deserve so much better. That’s not the way someone acts when they really care about you.”

“Well, he said two hours, and I _did_ get him to stay until after dark,” Shoshana pointed out. “I shouldn’t have done that, he told me what might happen—“

“No,” Elena said firmly. “So you’re some kind of vampire bait. Fine. But you can’t just cower inside all the time. You have to live your life. You just wanted to hang out with some nice people,” she went on. “You wouldn’t have to go _out_ and meet them if he’d let them come to _you_. Or if he’d let you go out more often, you wouldn’t have to stretch out the time you _do_ get.”

“Well, maybe you have a point,” Shoshana said dubiously.

“ _And_ ,” Elena continued, on a roll now, “it’s not like you—drugged him or something so he couldn’t look at a clock or out the window. He was too busy indulging in his twisted little fantasies to pay attention. We were fine being there as long as it suited him, and when it didn’t, suddenly it was everyone’s fault but his own.”

Shoshana smiled at her. “You’re such a good friend, Elena,” she said suddenly. “I hope I can help you out sometime like you’ve helped me.”

“Oh, well—it’s nothing,” Elena insisted, all at once slightly embarrassed.

“It’s not nothing,” Shoshana countered. “I’ve never seen anyone stand up to Damon like you do, especially not a human.” Never had someone defied him on such a regular basis, except Stefan of course, and his methods were usually a little less… aggressive. Though she’d heard that when she wasn’t around to supply him with extra power, older and stronger vampires occasionally kicked his a-s. She didn’t have to wonder why. “Damon must really like you,” she concluded happily.

Elena scoffed at the notion. “How can you tell?”

“He hasn’t killed you yet.” The comment was supposed to be cheeky, but it made Shoshana think of too many other sad things as she said it. “I just… always felt so lonely,” she sighed. “We were always moving around, we couldn’t stay too long in any one place. It’s so hard for people to see the good in Damon. But you see it, I know you do,” she told Elena, squeezing her hand. The other girl looked away guiltily; sometimes, yes, she felt that way, like there was a shred of decency left inside of him that was worth fighting to save—but she hadn’t had that feeling lately, and sometimes she wondered if she’d just imagined it.

“He didn’t like any human friends I made,” Shoshana went on quietly, “and their vampire friends—they weren’t comfortable around me, even the nice ones. I mean, I love Damon and Stefan,” she professed easily, “but to spend all that time with _just_ them? I need other people. They kind of have _issues_ ,” she pointed out and Elena giggled conspiratorially, knowing exactly what she meant. “But I like talking to other girls and doing things with them,” Shoshana added in a lighter tone. “Although Stefan always tried hard to do makeovers,” she snickered.

“ _What?!_ ” Elena laughed, eyes wide.

“It’s true, sometimes I would get so desperate that I would try doing girl stuff with Stefan or Damon,” she insisted. “Damon is _very_ good at applying make-up, except he gets so perfectionist. And Stefan,” she confessed with a naughty giggle, “looks _really_ hot in eyeliner.”

“I’m going to remember that,” Elena promised, thoroughly intrigued.

They were quiet for a few minutes. But Elena hadn’t finished all of her speech yet. “I’m serious, though, about how he treats you,” she repeated. “There’s no excuse for it. And I know that it seems like there’s nothing you can do about it”—if there was ever a psychotic boyfriend who would literally follow a girl to the ends of the earth, it was Damon—“but I think you can, sometimes. Sometimes, when you stand up to him, he does what you want. It shouldn’t be like that, that it comes to that,” she emphasized, “but maybe if next time, you really stood your ground—“ She stopped because she didn’t want to make it seem like it was Shoshana’s fault, because it really wasn’t—but maybe she could make the situation a little better for herself. “Do you know what I mean?” she asked.

“Uh-huh,” Shoshana assured her sleepily, curling up against her. “I just need to get stronger first.” Elena wasn’t really sure what she meant by that, though she worried Shoshana might have missed her point entirely.

 

There was a knock on the back door the next morning and Elena peeked through the curtain. When she saw it was Damon, she seriously debated whether to open the door. Not that that would stop him, of course. But he hadn’t bothered them all night—no spooky shadows outside the window, or even a text message—so she steeled herself and opened the door a few inches.

She couldn’t meet his eyes properly through the sunglasses he wore, but his tone was carefully neutral as he held out a shopping bag to her. “I brought some clothes for Shoshana,” he told her. Elena took it automatically. “And some coffee.” He lifted the center to-go cup off the carrier he balanced in his other hand and offered her the remaining four, one for everyone in the house. “The mint mocha’s for her.”

Elena set the clothes aside and took the coffees with both hands. She felt like she ought to at least open her mouth and say something to him. “Thanks,” she replied, not putting any more warmth into it than she deemed necessary.

“You’re welcome,” he answered in kind. He backed away from the door and she watched him warily. He didn’t leave but rather sat down at the patio table, sipping his coffee as if he were prepared to wait forever. Elena shut the door on him.

He was still sitting there when Shoshana came out, carrying the coffee and wearing the clothes he’d brought. He knew she liked to look nice in front of people she didn’t know as well, like Jenna and Jeremy, and he knew that none of Elena’s clothes would come close to fitting her. She sat down in another chair and for a moment they were silent, drinking their coffee and, to an outside observer, just enjoying the morning.

“So Stefan was just full of advice for me last night,” Damon finally said. Clearly he wasn’t interested in small talk.

“Elena had some for me, too,” Shoshana agreed, and Damon nodded as if he had expected as much.

“For them, it’s all lollipops and unicorns,” Damon declared, and Shoshana’s eyebrows went up. “Or they think it _should_ be lollipops and unicorns. Maybe for them it is. Maybe they eat rainbows and s—t marshmallows, I don’t know.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Shoshana told him distinctly.

“It’s different for them,” he clarified. “We can’t go by their rules, necessarily.” His fingers toyed with the coffee cup as he spoke and he stared down at it rather than at her.

“I don’t need someone to tell me how to feel when I’m being attacked and you’re just standing there, telling me I deserve it,” Shoshana replied, slow and frosty.

Damon shifted uncomfortably in his chair as she spoke. “I’m not going to apologize for that,” he decided, and his tone was calm, not defensive. “Because—“ She was interested to hear his reasoning. “Because I’m just not,” he finished. There was a certain sense of freedom in his voice. “Because that’s what I am, that’s my life, and I’m not going to apologize for that.”

“You can be very sweet sometimes,” Shoshana responded after a moment, and he looked away, off into the backyard. “And other times you do things I don’t understand and I don’t like.”

“That’s because I’m not a nice person,” he tried to tell her. “I act nice when it suits me, when I think that will get me what I want.”

She was shaking her head before he finished speaking. “I don’t believe that.”

He acted as if she hadn’t said anything. “You had your chance to be with a nice person, and you didn’t take it.”

“It was never like that with me and Stefan, and you know it,” she dismissed.

“Oh do I.” He didn’t sound jealous exactly, just like he didn’t entirely believe her.

“I don’t want Stefan. I don’t want you to be _like_ Stefan,” she was forced to say. “I just want you to be a little nicer to me.”

“I will if I feel like it,” he stated coolly. She didn’t like that response. “I’m not going to give you compliments and tell you everything’s gonna be okay and apologize for being what I am while the world is ending all around us,” he went on, getting slightly worked up. “I’m not gonna sit in the corner and do what I’m told because I’m afraid you’ll leave if I do something you don’t like.”

“Well that much is obvious,” she replied icily. “ _I_ don’t like tiptoeing around the house, afraid to ask if I can have a sleepover because I don’t want to set you off!”

“You can still have your sleepover,” he promised, as if that should have been obvious. He reached into his pocket and tossed something across the table to her. “Here, you can have this, too.”

“A credit card,” she realized, picking it up. The name on it read ‘Shoshana Salvatore.’ “I’ve never had a credit card before,” she admitted. She’d always had aliases in the past, never staying anywhere long enough to bother really solidifying an identity.

“I know. It’s on the same account as mine,” he explained. “I’ll see all the places you spend money at, and I’ll pay the bill.”

She turned the card over in her hands, watching the holographic icon flash. “Is this a bribe?” she asked sharply.

“Yes it is,” he confirmed baldly. “Well, I ordered it earlier, but it’s a bribe now. I want you to come home with me.”

“Give you another chance?” she suggested.

“No,” he countered flatly. “I didn’t realize you’d been giving me chances up to this point.”

“Elena says how you treat me is not how you treat someone you love,” Shoshana told him, throwing the idea out there to see his response.

“Elena clearly does not recognize when I love someone,” Damon shot back, deliberately misinterpreting her words.

“I want you to be nicer to me,” she stated with finality. And at this point, she didn’t necessarily care _why_ he was nicer.

“I want you to be stronger,” he countered. He grabbed her hand, the first time he’d touched her that morning, and pulled it onto the tabletop. The bandage Elena had put on her wrist crinkled and with only a slight hesitation he ripped it off, making her jump. The bite wound was nearly healed, but her flesh still bore the distinctive red oval mark. “When this disappears right away,” he told her stonily, “you’ll be strong enough. When you don’t cry when I talk to you this way”—her chin was already wobbling—“that’ll be the time for me to be nice.” His fingers loosened around hers but didn’t pull away, his touch becoming more of a caress. “Will you please come home with me?” he asked in a low voice, leaning across the table.

It wasn’t like she could say no. He could literally pick her up and be gone before she could even scream, lock her in some room of the house for as long as he wanted. The thought was clearly not a comforting one. But _would_ he do that, _really_? Not long ago she would’ve said yes; but now she wasn’t so sure. Damon liked to talk tough sometimes, but she knew him better than he thought.

“Take off your sunglasses,” she said instead of answering. “I want to see you.”

“The light hurts my eyes,” he demurred, letting go of her hand and leaning back in his chair.

“Why?” she asked in confusion.

“Because I’m hungover,” he explained, irritation mixed with sheepishness.

Her expression immediately registered her disapproval. “How much did you have to drink to get hungover?” she asked in disbelief.

“A lot,” he understated. He hesitated a moment, then slowly pulled off the sunglasses, wincing heavily. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy. “And shockingly, it did _not_ make me feel better.” He slipped the glasses back on.

“You need to do something else nice for me,” she decided. Clearly he had the advantage here; but maybe she could negotiate. Elena had suggested taking a stand, after all.

“Anything in particular?” he asked and she shrugged, leaving the ideas to him. “You can have friends over more,” he decided. “Four times a week. Not counting Elena, of course,” he added when she opened her mouth, “because she practically lives with us anyway. And,” he continued with a painful sigh, “you can go out more. Once a week. During the day.”

Shoshana’s eyes widened in surprise at his concessions but she wasn’t about to turn them down. “Okay,” she decided quickly. “I’ll come home with you.”

He relaxed suddenly, and she realized for the first time how tense he’d been. He sipped his coffee and grimaced at its coolness. “I don’t know how you can stand Caroline, she’s so needy and shallow,” he commented conversationally.

“I think she just wants bringing out,” Shoshana judged optimistically.

“Coming out?” Damon misrepeated. “You could certainly help with that.”

She gave him a prim look. “It’s a Victorian sisterhood thing,” she reminded him.

“Having to do with corsets, yes, I know.” He gave her an appraising look. “You tricked me yesterday.”

“You have eyes, to see out the window,” she told him loftily, remembering Elena’s words. “I know, because they were watching me _very_ closely.”

“Kind of cruel of you, hitting my weak point like that,” he observed thoughtfully. “I’m sure Elena would never do that to Stefan.”

“Well, I don’t—poop marshmallows.”

Damon laughed unexpectedly at that, stopped when it made his head hurt, then thought about it again and laughed some more. He started to stand. “Are you ready to go?” It was more of a rhetorical question, she knew.

“Can we go out to breakfast?” she asked hopefully, standing as well.

“Didn’t they feed you?” he frowned. “We can run through McDonald’s and _get_ breakfast.”

“Well, okay,” she decided. Elena was not going to be happy with her, she felt. But Damon made sense to her—not always the words he said, but the meaning behind them. Maybe they couldn’t solve things the way Elena and Stefan did. But she would get stronger. And then he wouldn’t be so afraid of being nice to her.


	9. Chapter 9

Damon knew the pink galoshes were going to be trouble the moment he saw them, tucked innocently in a cardboard box that came in the mail. Shoshana had been testing her new credit card, perhaps not believing it would actually work, and he had bitten his tongue as package after package arrived at the door. At least the pink galoshes didn’t have animal faces on them or anything horribly obnoxious like that. But he knew it was only a matter of time before—

Squeak squeak squeak. Damon cringed as he heard the galoshes approaching across the hardwood floor, the sound of the rubber soles piercing his eardrums. He was already irritated because he’d been cleaning up the breakfast dishes, which he loathed doing, but Stefan had gone off to school and Damon thought it prudent to stay on Shoshana’s good side.

But there were limits.

“Stop making that noise,” he told her futilely as she walked into the kitchen.

“What noise?” she asked innocently, stopping on the tile floor. He gave her a warning look then turned back to the dishes. She twisted her feet deliberately, creating a high-pitched screech.

With vampire speed Damon zipped over to her and picked her up off the floor. “Do not _ever_ do that again,” he threatened.

Shoshana was not intimidated by him but rather swung her feet back and forth, making it difficult to hold her up. “I promise I won’t do it _on purpose_ ,” she agreed. “Can I go outside?”

Damon set her down on the floor. “No,” he answered automatically. “Why?”

“I want to see my garden.”

He blinked at her. “You don’t _have_ a garden.”

“I used to,” she reminded him.

“That was fifty years ago,” he pointed out. “There’s nothing left.”

“Well I want to see where it _was_ ,” she persisted, getting cross. “It’s too late to plant a new one _now_ , but maybe next year…”

She trailed off and Damon did some quick consideration. _Next year_ was promising—she was thinking, however vaguely, about staying around that long, about investing in the grounds. Perhaps this should be encouraged.

But not too much.

“It’s raining,” he noted.

“It’s a light spring mist.”

“You shouldn’t go outside by yourself.” She blinked at him, unwilling to say the words. “I’ll come with you,” he decided for her.

“Well, okay,” Shoshana agreed, as if her agreement were required. She took a step and her boot squelched on the floor. Damon cringed, then picked her up and carried her to the back door. “I need a jacket,” she pointed out when he set her down.

He frowned. “Why didn’t you get one before?”

“I didn’t want to get overheated while we argued.”

“Fine,” he agreed gracelessly. “Wait here.” Damon zipped away and returned a moment later with a jacket. He could tell from her expression it wasn’t the one she would’ve chosen, though. “ _What?_ ”

“I think a raincoat would be better,” Shoshana ventured.

“Oh, I thought it wasn’t raining,” he shot back sarcastically. “This is now your mist-coat. Put it on.” She took it from him but not enthusiastically. “It’s pink, it matches your boots,” he tried, then chided himself—what was he _trying_ for?

Damon pushed past her and opened the back door, gazing suspiciously across the backyard. They really weren’t any safer inside than out, of course; in fact one could argue that _outside_ was safer, at least during the day, because only a limited number of vampires could approach them under the sun.

Shoshana stood on her toes to look over his shoulder. “Can we go out now?” she asked pointedly.

“Alright, come on,” he allowed, taking her hand. She twisted it away from him like a defiant child—at least, that was the look he gave her. “If you want to go out, you have to hold my hand.” She conceded with a sigh and they stepped out onto the brick patio.

“It’s so sad they cut down the tree,” she noted with disappointment.

“Well, it died,” he informed her. “It got a disease or was struck by lightning or something.” The occupants of the boarding house weren’t allowed to make major changes without prior consent, which was never given without a very good reason. It was unsettling to come back and find the place strikingly different—as Shoshana demonstrated.

“It made the patio so nice and shady,” she remembered.

She stumbled over a loose brick and Damon had to catch her. “Careful,” he warned her sternly. He took the opportunity to sniff at her hair when she couldn’t see. “Stefan and I, um…” He tried to stay focused. “We need to get this fixed up. The human who lived here last didn’t keep it maintained properly.” Also against the rules, but Damon figured Zach had gotten his just desserts.

Shoshana took a deep breath and spread her free arm towards the lawn behind the house, a shocking green on the gloomy day. “Mmm, doesn’t it smell wonderful? Everything is so fresh and clean and crisp!”

“No, it’s clammy and smells like dead worms,” Damon countered sourly.

Shoshana rolled her eyes and headed sideways along the house, looking for her former garden. As they walked Damon remembered what had become of it and tried to figure out what to say. They reached the end of the garage, on the south side of the house, and Shoshana frowned in confusion, looking at the sloping ground that led to the storage barn at the edge of the woods. They walked around to the front of the house, then to the back again, then to the front.

“They extended the garage,” Damon finally blurted, guilt coloring his tone.

“Over my garden!” she realized indignantly.

“Well, it was twenty years later,” he pointed out.

“They did a nice job,” she conceded. “I didn’t even notice it at first. But I can’t put my garden on _that_ ,” she went on, looking at the slope. She surveyed the landscape and started off towards an open patch to investigate. “No, it’s too soggy here. No, there’s too much shade here. This is awfully far from the house, at least for dragging a hose…”

“We can put a faucet out here,” Damon told her. “We can set up one of those fancy watering systems where the hose is always on the ground.”

“Oh really,” Shoshana said with interest. “Hmm, well, if we put it _here_ , the garden could go like _this_ —“ She started to pace off a sizable rectangle, dragging Damon along.

“How many people are you feeding with this garden?” he demanded. “I do _not_ intend to spend all summer laboring out here for you.”

“Oh, but you’re so helpful in the garden,” Shoshana cajoled. “You lift all the things I can’t lift, and it’s so much easier for you to push the wheelbarrow…”

Damon was not fooled. He looked down into her eyes and saw tomatoes and zucchini dancing in them. “Make it smaller,” he insisted.

“Fine,” she pouted. “Are you remembering the measurements? I’m going to draw it when we go back inside.”

“Yes, I’m remembering,” he assured her in a put-upon tone. “It’s a rectangle, it’s not difficult.” She got to the far corner of the proposed garden and stopped, staring out at the surrounding woods. “What?” he asked urgently, peering into the trees for sinister figures.

“It’s just so beautiful,” she explained. Her tone was melancholy. “I forgot how beautiful it was here. It makes me feel kind of…” He stared at her curiously. “…sad. Like… I can’t keep it, I can’t hold onto it.”

“Hold onto what?” he asked. For once his tone wasn’t mocking. “The… trees?”

“I don’t know,” she sighed. “It’s just so beautiful, it’s almost painful. It’s hard to breathe looking at it—the woods, the house…” She shook her head, unable to explain better. “And when I go back inside it’ll all just vanish and I’ll feel kind of empty for a while. Like _this_ is the only thing that’s real.”

Damon blinked at her, then turned to look at the expanse of lawn and woods again. He could see it, hear it, smell it far more keenly than she could, but it wasn’t affecting him the same way. Then he remembered one time, decades ago now, when he’d been deep in the woods—chasing dinner, perhaps?—and stumbled across the site of their former home, now a pile of fallen marble columns and cracked stairs, overgrown with weeds and hemmed in with trees. Maybe what he felt when he saw it was the same feeling Shoshana described, maybe not; either way it hit him full-force and it definitely brought his mood down even further.

“Let’s go back inside,” he decided. He would be fine with the landscape disappearing as soon as he turned his back. “Do you want some apple cider? I’ll make you a pot of apple cider.”

This perked her up. “Do we have any cheddar cheese? I love apple cider and cheddar!”

“Let’s find out,” he suggested, zipping them back to the house.

 

Stefan was sitting on the couch reading when Damon stomped in, bearing several bags of groceries. “Did you realize the ‘express lane’ is only for people buying ten items or less?” Damon asked seriously.

“Yes,” Stefan replied. Damon huffed and headed to the kitchen, and Stefan decided to follow him to help with the food. “What did _you_ think it was for?”

“People who were in a hurry,” Damon told him, “and weren’t going to be slow about putting the groceries on the counter or paying. And who would bag the stuff themselves if it was faster than waiting for Mr. Pimply High School Drop-Out to do it.”

Stefan blinked at him. “’Ten items or less’ fits on the sign better,” he observed.

“I want them to have a huge scanner that I push my cart under, that scans everything, adds up the prices, and tells me the total,” Damon envisioned as he put the food away. “It could even automatically charge an account. Like those toll road express lanes.”

“Only ten thousand times more complicated,” Stefan pointed out.

“You’re such a dream-killer,” Damon accused.

“Yep, that’s me.”

“Speaking of dream-killing, where’s Shoshana?” Damon asked. “Usually she comes running at the sound of fresh groceries.”

Stefan shrugged. “She was upstairs doing something.” Damon zipped away, neatly avoiding responsibility for most of the groceries. A few minutes later he returned, looking distracted.

“She’s not upstairs,” he reported.

“Well, maybe she’s cleaning somewhere,” Stefan suggested. “Shoshana!” he called, leaning towards the laundry room. There was no answer.

Damon whooshed away, checking the rest of the house. “I can’t find her,” he told Stefan, becoming agitated.

“Just relax,” Stefan placated. “She’s probably around here somewhere—“

“Don’t tell me to relax!” Damon snapped. “Just help me f-----g find her!”

They searched both floors of the house again, calling her name and listening for any response. Damon dialed her cell phone number and they both strained to hear a ring somewhere else in the house, but there was none.

“I’ll look around outside,” Stefan offered, heading towards the door.

Damon grabbed his arm. “She knows she’s not supposed to go outside,” he said slowly.

“I know, but maybe—“

Damon turned his brother around, giving him a cold stare that Stefan did not like at all, and backed him up against a wall. “Maybe? Maybe you know she’s not outside. Maybe you know she’s not anywhere inside.”

“What are you talking about?” Stefan asked him with growing discomfort.

“Maybe”—Damon jabbed him hard in the shoulder with a finger—“maybe you dropped her off at the bus station. Or the train station. You wouldn’t have had time to take her to the airport in Neoga.”

Stefan glared at his brother and shoved his accusatory finger aside. “I didn’t take her anywhere,” he corrected distinctly.

“Just let her go on her own, huh?” Damon guessed nastily. “Called her a cab, maybe?”

“If she left, she did it without my knowledge,” Stefan insisted, irritated at the allegation. “Though I certainly wouldn’t blame her,” he added under his breath.

The last comment was too much and Damon shoved him back against the wall, pinning him with an arm across his chest. “If you didn’t help her leave,” Damon snarled, “then you are a p—s-poor guardian and you better hope nothing’s happened to her, because I will _rip you to pieces_.”

He jerked away abruptly and Stefan collapsed to the floor, rubbing his chest, a pained expression on his face. Damon headed outside, senses alert for any clues indicating Shoshana—or anyone else—had been nearby. He swept around the perimeter of the house and ran into Stefan, who was doing the same. “Damon, I’m sorry—“ he began but his brother didn’t want to hear it. Though remarkably potent, Stefan’s self-inflicted guilt would be nothing compared to what Damon would do to him if Shoshana had left without his knowledge.

Or been taken.

“You didn’t hear anything? She didn’t say anything?” Damon interrogated when they returned to the living room with no further progress made.

“No,” Stefan insisted, trying to think it over again. Worry clouded his mind, which didn’t help. “She was upstairs—I think she came down—“

“You _think_? _You think_?” Damon snapped angrily.

“She doesn’t like me following her around, sometimes she—“ Stefan stopped talking when he saw Damon cock his head suddenly and sniff. He couldn’t detect anything himself, but drinking Shoshana’s blood had given his brother greater sensitivity in that regard.

Not in any others, it seemed.

Predatory reflexes on alert Damon stalked around the living room, tracing the air currents, hovering upwards to taste them better, reconstructing the path of—someone. Stefan wasn’t sure if it was Shoshana he smelled or an intruder.

Before Stefan could work up _too_ much more guilt Damon’s eyes suddenly focused and he headed purposefully towards the basement door—one level of the house they hadn’t checked. He banged the door open and zipped down the steps, Stefan on his heels, both of them calling Shoshana’s name.

She popped out of a room at the end of the hall, backlit by an eerie glow. “Yes?”

“What are you doing in here?” Damon snarled, grabbing her arm.

“Are you okay?” Stefan asked, coming up behind him.

Shoshana looked from one to the other as if they’d each grown a particularly unattractive second head. “I’m _fine_ ,” she said, yanking her arm away from Damon in irritation. “I was just looking at the plants.”

Damon dragged her out of the vervain growth room, slamming the door shut after her. “I told you to keep this locked,” he snapped at Stefan. “Did you touch them?” he demanded of Shoshana.

“Well, maybe, I—“

“Wash your hands,” he insisted, pushing her towards the work sink in the next room.

“ _Okay_ ,” she agreed angrily. “Why do you have plants in the basement anyway?”

“That’s vervain, idiot.”

“Damon!” Stefan chastised.

“She’s rubbing _poison_ on her hands,” Damon accused.

“Don’t talk to me like I’m _dumb_!” Shoshana snapped, spinning around at the sink. “How would I know what vervain looks like?!”

“Wash your hands!” Damon growled, turning her back around. “Why are you down here?”

“I was just looking around,” Shoshana explained through gritted teeth, soaping up her hands thoroughly. “I haven’t been down here in a while. I thought it might be interesting.”

Stefan was leaning against the opposite wall, slightly winded by the force of his relief. “We couldn’t find you,” he told Shoshana. “We thought you’d gone—“

“Or been kidnapped and tortured,” Damon added snidely. “Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

“It didn’t _ring_ ,” she shot back, rinsing her hands.

Immediately Damon patted her pockets and yanked her phone out. He held it up and turned a few times, obviously finding no signal down in the basement. So he threw the phone against the far wall, smashing it to pieces.

Both Stefan and Shoshana protested but clearly Damon didn’t care. He pinned Shoshana against the sink, looking her straight in the eye. “Don’t you _ever_ leave my f-----g sight again—“

“You left the house!” she yelled back. “I’m not allowed to leave the house! How’s _that_ supposed to work? Get off me!” She shoved him back and he moved, then grabbed her from behind as she marched towards the door.

Stefan tried to intervene and Damon threw him back forcefully. “ _You’re_ the one who let her f-----g walk right past you!” he accused. “Were you even watching her at all? Anything could’ve f-----g happened to her and you’d just be sitting on the couch, reading your f‑‑‑‑‑g book—“

“Stop it!” Shoshana demanded, cutting in between them. “He feels bad enough already.” It was true, Stefan looked like a man with no defenses left—he hadn’t even gotten up off the floor where Damon had tossed him. “I’m fine, I didn’t leave, get over it! And I _snuck_ down here because I didn’t want to bother Stefan so he wouldn’t feel like he had to babysit me—“

“That’s his _job_!” Damon shouted at her.

“I don’t mind—“ Stefan started to insist.

“ _I’m not a baby!_ ” she screamed back. “I don’t need you two hovering over me all the time! Gimme your phone,” she demanded, snatching Damon’s from him.

“What for?” he asked as she started to walk away with it.

“Because you _broke_ mine,” she reminded him coolly. “You _better_ get me a new one. Did you go to the grocery store? Did you get what I told you to?”

“Yes,” Damon answered, slightly cowed by her fury.

“I’ll check,” she warned, leaving the room.

Blinking a few times as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing, Damon turned and pulled Stefan to his feet finally. “Don’t look so mopey,” he advised, which Stefan took as an apology. “She’s very stealthy sometimes.”

“I won’t let it happen again, I promise,” Stefan vowed. It was not very often he felt wrong to Damon’s right and it burned at him.

A sudden clang drew their attention and they found Shoshana had shut the heavy door on them—and locked it. “I’m going to call Caroline and ask her to come watch some movies in the living room,” she informed them through the barred window in the door. “And you’d better. Not. Bother us.” And with that she left.

“Shoshana!” Damon shouted while Stefan tested the door. “Shoshana, get back here!” They could break through the lock easily enough—since they weren’t doped on vervain or starved of blood—but it would be a mess, and getting it fixed would require some creative compulsion of a locksmith. No need for people to speculate about why the Salvatore boarding house had a dungeon in the basement, after all.

Shoshana did not respond to Damon’s summons. “I think she’s getting stronger,” Stefan observed.

“Shut up,” Damon replied sourly, rattling the door.

 

Elena stared into the darkness of Stefan’s bedroom, listening to the barely-muffled thumps and clatters from downstairs. She rubbed her eyes, stretched, thought of soothing things… but it was no use. She wasn’t going to fall asleep with all that happening in the house. She rolled over and saw Stefan, sitting up against the headboard, muscles tense, eyes distant, the same position he’d held for twenty minutes now. He was trying so hard not to get involved in the chase, to master his instincts instead of reveling in them like Damon did. Elena couldn’t pretend to fully understand that struggle; but she knew he was desperately trying to be a better person, and her heart went out to him.

“You should go,” she told him softly.

Her words took a moment to register with him and he turned to look down at her, his smile automatic but weary. “Hmm?”

“Go out and get something to eat,” she suggested, squeezing the hand he put in hers.

“Oh. No, it’s okay,” he tried. “I don’t like to leave you here…”

“I’ll be fine,” she assured him. “Go ahead.”

He thought it over for another moment, then gave her a tight smile of acquiescence. He never wanted what he was to interfere with her life, but of course that was impossible. Maybe someday she would convince him that he didn’t have to conceal _everything_ from her. Stefan leaned down and gave her a quick kiss, then slid out of bed and dressed for a walk in the woods. The clothes didn’t really matter to him; they didn’t keep him warm (though it was nice to be dry on wet nights) and they didn’t protect him from injury. But he still liked the ritual of dressing—though it was less elaborate these days than in the past. He found it grounding, humanizing. And from a practical aspect, should he meet anyone out in the woods, his presence would be easier to explain if he were dressed for the situation than if he were in pajamas.

He gave Elena one more kiss before he left, leaping from the bedroom window directly to the ground and jogging off to the woods. Elena watched him go—and when he reached the trees, she yanked her hair up in a loose ponytail out of the way, pulled her hoodie on over her camisole, and left the bedroom with determination in her eyes. She had to wait until Stefan left the house, because otherwise he would try to stop her from doing the admittedly foolish and dangerous thing she was about to do.

Elena padded softly down the stairs, finding a weapon on the hall table. It wasn’t too hard to locate Shoshana and Damon in the living room—she was dashing around the furniture, wild-eyed and frantic, while he darted out from the shadows at superspeed and changed her course by appearing in front of her. For him it was like a game of Whack-a-Mole.

Well, it was like that for Elena, too.

She waited and watched, unnoticed, and at a strategic moment she jumped out and swung, catching Damon full across the face. The cat-and-mouse game screeched to a halt with Shoshana unceremoniously dumped on the floor at Damon’s feet while he tried to figure out what just happened.

Damon stared at Elena with a satisfying expression of shock. His eyes flickered up and down her and he sputtered, “Did you just— _hit me in the face with a rolled-up newspaper like I was a bad puppy?_ ”

By the time he finished speaking the fury had set in and Elena was reminded of the foolish and dangerous aspects of her plan. “If you _act_ like an animal, you’ll be _treated_ like one!” she shot back, bolder than she felt.

His eyes blazed as he stared at her, then very rapidly his expression transformed to its vampiric mask—red skin around his eyes with throbbing veins, eyes themselves blood-red instead of sky blue, fangs protruding from curled lips.

This was not the face of mere irritation with Elena’s interference. This was the face of unbridled fury. And now Elena wished that Stefan wasn’t quite so far away.

Damon lunged at her, a growl in his throat, and Elena fought the urge to run, knowing that would only make things worse, though how much worse things could get than an angry vampire lunging at you she wasn’t sure—And then suddenly Damon stumbled and hit the floor, Shoshana deliberately tangling herself in his feet. She scrambled up as he rolled over and moved boldly between his splayed legs, placing her foot firmly in a very sensitive location.

Damon made a noise Elena had never heard before in her life and couldn’t properly describe, a sort of keening yelp. Elena would’ve thought he would have been more resistant to such attacks, but this did not seem to be the case—as Shoshana apparently understood.

“Leave Elena alone,” she snarled, pressing her foot down just a little harder.

Damon howled, his whole body trying to curl up around the abused portion, but every movement brought a fresh squeeze from Shoshana and he was reduced to twitching helplessly on the floor, not really caring how humiliating the situation was as long as it stopped. “Okay, okay, ‘kay, ‘kay, ‘kay,” he promised frantically.

“I’m _tired_ ,” Shoshana added fiercely, and Elena couldn’t help the feeling of pride that bubbled up within her. “I want to go to _sleep_.”

“Sure, fine, okay,” Damon agreed immediately, and Shoshana eased up, just a little bit. It wasn’t exactly the method Elena had envisioned for standing up to Damon, but it was certainly effective.

“Tell him to stop chasing you,” she suggested.

“That’s necessary,” Damon insisted, panting a little bit, “to be strong—“ He was cut off by his own high-pitched hiss as Shoshana leaned forward.

“I don’t wanna hear it!” she told him. “I don’t wanna hear any more of your stupid excuses—“

Damon’s squeal seemed to reach beyond the limits of human hearing and Elena fixed the sight of him writhing on the floor in her mind to savor later. She didn’t want to be _mean_ , but—oh, what the h—l, it was no more than he deserved.

“You might want that someday!” he gasped out pleadingly.

Shoshana considered this and moved her foot slightly. “Vampires can’t procreate, so you don’t need _these_.” Damon’s inhuman noise indicated he realized the situation had somehow gotten even worse.

That was when Stefan zipped in through the front door, braking himself on the hardwood floor when he realized his brother _wasn’t_ being attacked by a horde of more powerful vampires. Just two non-vampire girls. Well, one girl who was attacking, and one who was standing by watching with an expression of vicious glee he wasn’t entirely comfortable with.

Couldn’t leave these three alone for a minute.

“Um…” Stefan remarked with a frown, not sure where to begin.

“Help me,” Damon said to him distinctly and Shoshana twitched her foot, sending him into a paroxysm of discomfort. Stefan couldn’t help but wince sympathetically, even though he knew Damon was a wuss when it came to pain and was probably exaggerating.

Probably.

“Well…” Stefan hesitated, glancing between the two girls.

Shoshana didn’t take her eyes off her victim. “He made the fang face at Elena,” she tattled smugly, and Damon knew he was done for.

“Oh really?” Stefan commented, crossing his arms over his chest in disapproval.

“She hit me with a—“ Damon tried to protest desperately, but Shoshana cut him off.

“I don’t wanna hear it!”

“What _do_ you want to hear?!” he demanded frantically.

Her reply was slow and furious. “I want you to beg.”

For a moment Damon stared at her, eyes flaring with interest—even in his current incapacitated state he registered this turn of hers with intrigue, the possibilities spinning out wildly in his mind. She squeezed a little to bring him back to the present. “Please,” he told her immediately, but coherently. “Please, let me go.”

She considered it for a long moment, then suddenly lifted her foot and backed away as if it were of little consequence. Damon drew a shuddering breath and curled up on the floor protectively, though he still kept a wary eye on her.

Shoshana held out her hand to Elena. “Come on, let’s go to bed,” she decided primly, and Elena took her hand with a superior glance down at Damon and skipped away.

He relaxed, marginally, when the two girls disappeared upstairs but was still bent double, soothing his injury. “Don’t rub it, just let it heal,” Stefan advised, wondering how he got into these situations. He headed for the sideboard where Damon had hidden a single bottle of whiskey for emergencies.

“Did you see that?” Damon asked him unnecessarily, his breathing still labored as he crawled onto the couch. His tone held fascination and admiration. “Did you see what she did? Did you see how she stood up to me?”

“Yes, I saw it,” Stefan agreed, pouring his brother a drink.

“She’s brilliant,” Damon declared, staring back at the stairs as if Shoshana’s image had lingered. “G-d, I love her.”

“I know you do.” Stefan walked over to the couch with the glass of whiskey and set it on the coffee table, then took advantage of Damon’s distracted and weakened state to slam him down against the couch cushions. The move got his attention. “Don’t ever make the fang face at Elena again,” he warned.

“But she hit—“ Damon started to complain, then stopped when he saw Stefan’s unsympathetic expression.

Satisfied he’d gotten his point across, Stefan handed him the drink. “Here. I’ll get you some ice.”

“Don’t bother, I like it neat,” Damon said, knocking back the whiskey as Stefan stood and headed for the kitchen anyway.

“It’s not for your drink. D—k,” Stefan corrected and Damon smirked a little, even as he winced.


	10. Chapter 10

Elena walked into the kitchen carrying some grocery bags and found only Damon, diligently chopping pound cake into cubes. “Where’s Shoshana?” she asked, heading for the fridge. “I got the frozen yogurt she wanted.”

“That’s for the smoothies,” Damon informed her. “Shoshana is sprinkling sunshine and pixie dust around the house in preparation for the festivities,” he went on, his tone sarcastically bright.

Elena would have rolled her eyes but his comment was all too true. “Is all this food for _us_?” she asked in amazement, looking at all the plastic containers neatly stacked—and labeled—in the fridge and on the counter.

“Yup,” Damon confirmed. He dumped the pound cake cubes into another container, snapped the lid on, and labeled it on the side. Then he added it to the stack beside him. “Veggies, bread, pretzels, French fries, apple slices for the cheese fondue,” he pointed out. “I haven’t made the fries yet. Don’t tell her. Fruit, cake, pretzels, shortbread cookies for the chocolate fondue. And all the fruit for the smoothies.”

“It’s all color-coded,” Elena observed.

“Yes it is.”

“So which one of you is the obsessive-compulsive one?” she asked with an amused grin.

“That’d be me,” Damon smirked. He started boiling something in a pot on the stove. “There is a folktale about vampires that says if you’re being chased by one, you should throw some seeds on the ground, because they will feel compelled to stop and count them,” he informed her conversationally. “Hence, the vampire Count on _Sesame Street_ who likes to count things.”

Elena stared at him. “I didn’t know that!” she admitted, slightly impressed. With _Sesame Street_ , not Damon.

“Wouldn’t try it at home, though,” he advised. “I just like to be organized in the kitchen, especially when the Wicked Witch of the West could bound in at any moment.”

She rolled her eyes at this lopsided remark, though he had been unusually sedate since the _stepping incident_ the other night. “What are you making?” she asked, finding it sadly rare that she enjoyed talking to Damon (a little).

“Jello shots,” he replied, dumping some vodka into the mix.

Well, there went her enjoyment. “Damon!”

“It’s not for _you_ ,” he told her. “It’s for the man-party upstairs.”

“That my little brother will be at?” she said pointedly.

“Oh, he’s not gonna drive home,” Damon dismissed in annoyance. “Let the kid have a little fun. We’re not slurping them from a hooker’s boobs or anything.”

“Do I even want to know what you’re talking about?” Stefan asked dryly, walking into the kitchen.

“I’m making Jello shots,” Damon singsonged and Stefan’s eyes flared with sudden interest.

“Really?”

Elena looked slightly surprised by his response. “Kid loves Jello,” Damon confided to her. “Use that knowledge wisely.” She scoffed at his salacious tone but had to admit she was intrigued. “Sometimes we pour some squirrel blood in, too, but obviously not this time. Did you get the movies?” he asked Stefan, who hovered around the stove as Damon poured the Jello mixture into ice cube trays.

“Yeah, but… Couldn’t we just watch some regular action movies?” he suggested dubiously, glancing at the stack of DVDs he’d rented. “This _Human Centipede_ sounds really disturbing.”

“Ugh, you got _that_?” Elena protested.

“Don’t be such a baby,” Damon chided. “I’ve seen it, it’s funny.”

“We’re definitely not watching it, then,” Stefan decided, tossing it aside. Damon’s idea of humor was a _little_ too dark for most sane people. He started to stick his finger in one of the ice cube trays and Damon smacked it away.

“You can lick the pot,” he allowed instead.

“And then I have to _wash_ the pot,” Stefan guessed, taking it from him.

“Seems only fair,” Damon agreed, putting the trays in the freezer.

“So you guys are gonna stay upstairs the whole time, right?” Elena checked. “Shoshana would be upset if you decided to pull any—“

“Hijinks?” Damon supplied obnoxiously. “Rest assured we will keep to our proper place. I’m still waiting for my b—ls to grow back, after all. Literally.” Stefan smirked to himself as he rinsed out the Jello pot.

“Elena!” Shoshana exclaimed, dancing excitedly into the kitchen. Damon cringed involuntarily, still a little jumpy around her. “My first sleepover guest!” She embraced the other girl by way of greeting. “Where’s my French fries?” she then asked Damon sharply, her tone taking a one-hundred-eighty degree turn.

“I am putting them in now,” he promised, pulling the bag from the freezer.

“Did you finish chopping everything?” she asked, eyeing the stacks of containers critically. She straightened one minimally crooked set.

“Yes!”

“Okay. Thank you!” Shoshana gave him a smile that seemed to momentarily blind him. “I’ll get the cheese going. This is gonna be so much fun!” Elena just hoped she could survive the force of Shoshana’s excitement.

 

Stefan left Matt and Jeremy watching a movie— _not Human Centipede_ , majority had ruled against that one—and went out looking for his brother, who clearly didn’t need to step out for a smoke or to call his broker or whatever excuse he’d given. Instead he found Damon lying on the floor in the hallway, peering down through the railing bars at the girls’ party below.

Typical. So typical.

“Damon!” Stefan hissed.

Damon looked up at him suddenly and shushed him, then grabbed Stefan and pulled him to the floor. “You’re gonna give me away,” he whispered in irritation.

“Oh, I _couldn’t_ give you away, no one would take you,” Stefan whispered back. “What are you doing? You said you wouldn’t bother the girls.”

“Are they bothered? No,” Damon pointed out. “They don’t even know I’m here.”

“Yes, that’s not creepy at all, my mistake,” Stefan said sarcastically.

“I’m just checking on Shoshana,” Damon claimed. “They’re doing makeovers. Hair, make-up, mani-pedi.”

“I think you missed your calling,” Stefan told him dryly. Since he was there, though, he supposed it wouldn’t hurt to just make sure everyone was having a good time…

“Dashing international spy?” Damon guessed. “Check and check, buddy.”

Stefan rolled his eyes, still not sure he believed that story about his brother’s trip to France during World War I. “Stylist,” he corrected. “Oh wait, you used to do Shoshana’s make-up all the time.”

Damon gave him a narrow look. “You missed the pillow fight,” he retaliated.

“What?” Stefan squeaked, a bit loudly, and his brother muffled him. Bonnie looked up sharply from the living room.

“No, just kidding,” Damon assured him, after she had turned away. “I feel like it’s coming, though. Maybe after the makeovers.”

“Well, they look like they’re having fun,” Stefan judged after a moment.

“More fun than _we’re_ having,” Damon sneered. “Why’d you have to invite Captain Loser and Emo Boy, anyway?”

“It seemed polite,” Stefan shot back, knowing that meant nothing to Damon. “I’m trying to get to know Matt and Jeremy better. They’re important to Elena.” Damon scoffed. “You should try getting to know Shoshana’s—oh, wait, you killed them,” Stefan added pointedly.

“Exactly what I was about to say,” Damon told him flippantly. “Cuts down on those awkward social occasions.” They were both quiet for a moment, watching the girls through the railing. “If they were younger, we might get the scene where they practice kissing on each other,” Damon dreamed.

“If they were younger we would both be in jail right now, and well-deserved,” Stefan countered with disapproval.

“Oh don’t pretend you aren’t enjoying watching them prance around in their little PJs,” Damon insisted.

“Well, _I_ am,” said a new voice, and the two vampires almost hit the ceiling in surprise.

“Get down!” Damon hissed to Matt, pulling him to the floor just as Bonnie glanced up suspiciously again.

“We were just, uh—“ Stefan tried to explain, embarrassed to be caught by Matt of all people, whom he was trying to make a good impression on.

“Did they have the pillow fight yet?” Matt asked, giving him a conspiratorial smirk. “It usually comes after the makeovers.”

“Told you,” Damon taunted Stefan. “Bros before hos, right?”

Stefan and Matt just looked at him. “ _We’re_ the ones laying on the floor in the dark,” Stefan pointed out, which didn’t suggest their status was very exalted.

“Did I miss the pillow fight yet?” Jeremy asked, crawling over to join them. “Oh, good, they’re still on makeovers.”

“Why does everyone know the schedule but me?” Stefan wanted to know.

“Because you’re a loser,” Damon supplied automatically.

“Elena likes to have sleepovers,” Jeremy explained, and Matt nodded.

They were quiet for a moment, trying to spy on the girls without admitting they were actually spying. “Is that your Taylor Swift CD?” Stefan asked innocently of the music the girls were playing.

“Stop embarrassing me,” Damon insisted, “with your lack of cultural knowledge. That’s my Carrie Underwood CD. Shoshana’s been listening to it obsessively ever since she found it in my car.”

Matt and Jeremy dared to exchange a snicker. “You listen to Carrie Underwood in your car?” Matt checked teasingly.

“With the top down, singing along,” Damon replied flatly. “You might’ve heard me driving by some night.”

“But you probably thought it was two cats fighting,” Stefan interjected dryly, and Damon jabbed him in the ribs with his elbow. Jeremy shushed them as Bonnie turned around again.

“This kind of reminds me of the parties Mother and Father used to have,” Damon added after a moment.

Stefan glanced over at him. “I was thinking the same thing,” he admitted. “We were supposed to be in bed, but we would sneak out to the stairs and watch everyone,” he explained to the others, careful not to say anything anachronistic.

“You could see straight down the women’s dresses,” Damon added.

“Could you try not to be sleazy for thirty seconds?” Stefan asked him in irritation, a bit loudly.

“I was thirteen, that was all I thought about,” Damon said defensively, even louder.

“And that’s different from now _how_?”

“Shh!” Matt and Jeremy tried as Bonnie looked up at their corner and stood with determination.

“Quick, in here,” Damon suggested, scrambling through a doorway around the corner as Bonnie walked to the foot of the stairs. The others followed him in a panic.

Certain they were being watched, Bonnie mounted the stairs slowly, looking around for the boys. She couldn’t do a full incantation with Caroline present, of course, but witch’s intuition was not to be trifled with. There was no one in the upstairs hallway, but there _was_ a door at one end which gave off a suspicious vibe. Walking over Bonnie yanked it open—and saw the four boys, jammed awkwardly into a small closet.

“What are you doing in there?” she asked them, as literally _no_ plausible explanation came to her mind.

Everyone opened their mouths to answer. But only one could actually think of something to say.

“ _You’re_ not supposed to be up here bothering us,” Damon told her, with shameless indignation. He left the closet, forcing Bonnie to back up as he did so. “ _We_ aren’t down there bothering _you_. This agreement goes _both_ ways. Unless you came up to invite us to a panty raid,” he added hopefully.

Bonnie wrinkled her nose. “In your dreams,” she scoffed.

“Please. Stealing your underwear is a passing whim,” Damon assured her condescendingly. “Now if you really want to hear my _dreams_ about you four girls—“

“Stop!” Bonnie decided, already turning to go back downstairs. “Never mind!”

“That’s right, stay on your own turf!” Damon called after her, drawing the other girls’ attention. “You break the truce again, there’ll be consequences!”

The other boys chuckled slightly as they passed Damon, heading back to the safety of their designated movie room. Matt even slapped him on the back. “You are so good at bulls------g, man,” he complimented.

“Always has been,” Stefan smirked.

Damon stared after them. “What are you talking about? Everything I said was true.”

 

Shoshana lay in her sleeping bag on the floor in the living room, fighting sleep. The old house creaked comfortingly around her as it settled; the soft sounds of the other girls sleeping were soothing, peaceful. But she was afraid to let herself join them. As excited as she had been about the sleepover, this had been the part she dreaded, that she had made a plan for which diverged from the expected pattern.

Finally she couldn’t wait any longer; her eyelids drooped dangerously. Pushing back the bag she slipped quietly free of it and left the living room, heading for the stairs. Maybe she just wanted to use her own bathroom, or had forgotten something in her room. Once upstairs, however, she veered off to Damon’s room and tapped quietly on the door before poking her head in.

He was sitting on the couch reading and looked up when she entered, not at all surprised to see her. “You want to sleep up here?” he asked her mildly.

She shut the door behind her and nodded, embarrassed. “I don’t want to have a nightmare with the other girls around,” she admitted.

He closed the book and stood up. “Okay. Get in bed.” She crawled under the covers of his bed, getting comfortable while he turned off the lights and changed.

“Where’s Matt and Jeremy?” she asked, more because she felt awkward just going to sleep.

“Guest room,” Damon told her. “Other end of the hall. Don’t worry, I won’t let you be noisy.”

The room darkened and he slid into bed, curling up close behind her. Usually he liked to make some remark about how he could stop her nightmares for good, but tonight he was being suspiciously accommodating. Or maybe she was just so tired she was missing the subtle tone in his voice.

He slipped an arm around her easily and she settled back against him. “I don’t like to sleep alone,” Shoshana mumbled, before she could stop herself.

“I know.”

“Thanks for my party,” she added sleepily. “Thanks for… cutting things.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied with some amusement. “Go to sleep now.” That suggestion was not hard to follow.

 

Bonnie’s eyes fluttered open in the dark and for a moment she was disoriented. Then she remembered she was at Stefan’s house, at Shoshana’s sleepover, and she relaxed—a little. She didn’t think she could ever be completely comfortable in this house, knowing who resided in it.

Blearily she glanced around, seeing Elena and Caroline in their sleeping bags on the floor, but Shoshana’s was empty. Bonnie thought little of it until she saw a movement in the darkness towards the stairs and realized it was Damon approaching them, with Shoshana in his arms. It was all Bonnie could do to stay still, to lower her eyelids partway and calm her breathing; even though Damon hadn’t bothered them all evening it was difficult for her to see him as anything other than a monster, to reconcile the supernatural side he flaunted so freely with the garden-variety jacka-s who was her friend’s brother. She didn’t like him, it was that simple. She didn’t like him and she didn’t think he was a good person. What Shoshana saw in him, she had no clue, especially after what Elena had told her about his behavior towards the other girl.

Through half-closed eyes Bonnie watched Damon lay Shoshana on the couch and kneel to unzip her sleeping bag all the way. The girl was fast asleep, hair slightly disheveled. He picked her back up and tucked her carefully into the bag, his movements surprisingly gentle as he arranged her in a comfortable position. He brushed some hair away from her face, his hand lingering, then he leaned down and kissed her lightly.

Then he shot a suspicious glance at Bonnie and her heart froze as she tried to give the impression she was still asleep, to someone with far better observational abilities than a normal human. Why it was so important he not realize she was awake, she didn’t know; but him bringing Shoshana back and tucking her in seemed almost too intimate, something he might be angry to have witnessed. Or maybe it just made her uncomfortable, the way it clashed with the memories of him she usually thought of.

Her eyes were shut tight before he left; she missed the ghost of a smile that flickered across his face. Instead she listened to him cross the living room and ascend the stairs again, only breathing easier when she heard him return to his own room.

 

Elena was fixing herself breakfast when Damon strolled into the kitchen. She did a double-take and found herself looking him up and down, amazed that he actually owned such a nice suit. “Go ahead and stare,” he shrugged immodestly. “Be the first of many.”

She rolled her eyes. “Nice hat,” she conceded grudgingly.

He pulled off the matching fedora and rolled it expertly down his arm, somehow both cool and dorky at the same time. “Gotta keep my head covered in the synagogue,” he informed her casually, “and the _kippah_ makes my hair stand up funny.”

Elena quirked an eyebrow in surprise. “You’re going to a worship service?”

“Doin’ my part to generate impure thoughts among the congregation,” he smirked.

“Oh, that’s a nice suit,” Shoshana commented as she walked in, though she didn’t gawk at him in it. Damon was visibly disappointed. “Elena! I didn’t make you breakfast!” she realized with disapproval.

“It’s okay, really,” Elena assured her. She was perfectly capable of getting herself some cereal, after all.

Shoshana’s outfit was an even more demure version of what she normally wore to go out, with a high-collared blouse and a shawl draped over her shoulders. Naturally Damon had to point this out, especially after his suit hadn’t generated enough compliments. “G-d, it’s like going out with my spinster aunt,” he sighed in resignation.

“Do _not_ take the Lord’s name in vain,” Shoshana chided him. “It’s the Sabbath and you need to get in a temple frame of mind.”

He rolled his eyes disrespectfully. “They’re a pretty liberal group these days,” he informed her. “They won’t make you cover your head. So you could ditch the granny wrap.”

“I feel more comfortable with it,” she insisted. “And if you’d _told me_ we’d be going to synagogue earlier, I could’ve gotten some clothes that were more—colorful.” His expression said he wasn’t sure this was a better outcome.

“Oh, are you going to the synagogue?” Stefan asked, walking into the kitchen. He seemed pleasantly surprised by the development.

“We were just leaving,” Damon told him, suddenly eager to get going. “We’d invite you along, but a hoodie does _not_ count as keeping your head covered,” he scoffed at his brother, flicking the hood of his sweatshirt as he went by. “Try to be a little more respectful next time.” He took Shoshana’s hand and pulled her towards the garage as Stefan rolled his eyes.

“Elena, I’ll make you some waffles when we get back!” Shoshana promised over her shoulder.

“This isn’t a House of Pancakes,” Damon grumbled.

 

Damon was out running errands when his phone buzzed with a text message from Shoshana, who was at home (naturally) with Elena. He had gotten her a new phone, a different model from the last one, and she was still learning how to use it.

_Hi_ , the text read.

She was still learning the point of texting, as well.

_Hi. What do you want?_ he sent back.

_Bad time?_ she queried.

He rolled his eyes. _It’s not a phone call! No small talk. Tell me._ She was lucky he didn’t insist on using acronyms and abbreviations for everything.

_Can I go to the mall with EBC?_ she wrote back, approximately five minutes later. He imagined her pecking out the letters one by one at a glacial pace.

_Learn to type faster_ , he advised. _No._

_YES_ , was her defiant reply.

The bank teller caught part of his glare but Damon didn’t care. _NO._

_Please? Said I could go out more!_ she reminded him. By then he was done at the bank and heading for the next chore.

_With me_ , he reminded her. _I’m busy now. Shop online._

_Want to go to mall!_

Damon narrowed his eyes at the phone. _Whiny little baby_ , he sent back. _No. Stop asking._

Well, she stopped asking. In fact she stopped texting entirely. He thought she was just giving him the silent treatment as a means of protest and that he would find her sulking on the couch when he got home, possibly with a large credit card bill looming on the horizon. In hindsight he realized he shouldn’t have been surprised to get home and realize she’d gone anyway.

 

The feeling of déjà vu created by going to a mall while fearing a vampire stalker did not go unnoticed by Shoshana. But there was afraid, and there was… afraid. She knew Damon would come for her. She knew he would be angry. It wasn’t like she didn’t care, exactly. But she felt a delicious sense of freedom in doing as she pleased, like she could not, physically, have defied him before, and now she could. It was like that first time you really felt better after being laid low with a cold, and suddenly being able to do simple things like sit up without being dizzy or taste your food again brought you a flash of joy. Damon would be mad at her. But she could handle it. Because she was getting stronger.

She held up a shirt from the clothing rack in front of her, eyeing the neckline critically. There was just no good way to tell if it would be too low for her tastes without trying it on, so she headed back to the dressing rooms. The sales clerk, dollar signs flashing in her eyes when the four girls walked in, had already designated a dressing room for each of them, with a little post-it note bearing their name on each door to remind her what to call them. Of course Bonnie’s said ‘Bunny,’ Elena’s ‘Lana,’ and Shoshana’s just ‘Shana,’ but that wasn’t worth getting upset about. At least she’d gotten Caroline’s right—she was the person who would’ve minded the most.

“Are you in there, Bunny?” Shoshana teased, seeing Bonnie’s feet under the door of her stall.

“Yes,” Bonnie replied with mild exasperation. “I can’t get these jeans to zip up. I need to cut back on the donuts.”

“This brand runs small,” the saleswoman said tactfully. “I’ll get you the next size up.”

Shoshana ducked into her dressing room but the door was caught before she could close it. “Oh, come in, Elena,” she told the other girl. “Wow, that looks cute, you should get that whole outfit,” she added, looking her over.

“Thanks,” Elena told her. “I’m not sure ‘cute’ was really what I was going for, though.”

“Sexy,” Shoshana amended. “Stefan will really like it. You want to see what I got?”

“Sure,” Elena agreed, shutting the door so Shoshana could change. “This is really comfortable, I might just wear it home,” she added about her outfit.

Shoshana decided the top she’d picked out was too low-cut, though Elena professed to liking it, and she left it on the hook and went back out for more. Her mind was elsewhere, though, and when Damon slid up behind her and whispered, “Don’t scream,” in her ear, she almost did anyway, just in surprise. He gripped her arms tight and murmured coldly, “Walk out of the store and turn left towards the bathrooms. Don’t make me come back here.” Then he vanished.

“I’m gonna run to the ladies’ room real quick,” Shoshana told Caroline, who was staring at another rack intensely. No one, apparently, had seen Damon zip in and out.

“Okay,” Caroline agreed distractedly, and Shoshana left.

Damon was waiting for her around the corner, in a dim service hallway that led to the less popular bathrooms and a slew of doors with red ‘do not enter’ signs. He pinned her to the wall with his gaze, one hand braced beside her head. His eyes danced like cold fire, furious and also slightly hurt. For a moment they just stared at each other, unsure where to begin. Damon didn’t really want to do the clichéd ‘now what did I say’ opener. They both knew what she’d done.

“We’re going home now,” he finally ground out.

“Katherine’s here,” Shoshana whispered in return.

And that was a game-changer.

His eyes widened in shock but he was too savvy to give himself away by looking around. “Where?” he hissed in return.

“In the dress store,” Shoshana told him, also not looking around. “She was pretending to be Elena just now but it’s _not_ Elena.”

Damon was a pragmatic person and he tossed his anger at Shoshana aside, for the moment anyway—she’d be a fool to think it wouldn’t come back at some point. But at the moment he had other things to worry about. “We’re going to get the girls and go home,” he decided. Shoshana nodded in agreement.

And because both of them had been studiously _not_ looking around, Caroline almost managed to take them by surprise. “Leave her alone!” she said boldly to Damon, marching up to him.

He turned on her, rolling his eyes at the petty annoyance—Caroline had always been irritating, even when she was also useful or mildly diverting, and now that she was neither he found her irritant properties magnified. Sometimes he really wished he’d killed her when he was done with her, as he’d threatened to. He did _not_ need the distraction of her misplaced ire right now.

“Go away,” he told her shortly, not bothering with compulsion. Menace should do just as well.

Caroline blanched, but as soon as Damon turned away her spine stiffened again. “She’s fine with us! Don’t yell at her!” Her voice was tremulous and Damon had not, in fact, been yelling, but nonetheless the sentiment was clear, and Shoshana beamed at her.

“Caroline, you’re so sweet!” she declared, pushing past Damon and throwing her arms around the blond. Caroline had never stood up to him before, and his glare over Shoshana’s shoulder made her remember why. “Come on, let’s go home,” Shoshana went on happily, looping her arm through Caroline’s as though this had been the plan all along.

Damon trailed them closely from the hallway to the main drag of the mall. Bonnie and Elena—apparently—stood at the entrance to the store, looking around for the missing members of their party. Both quailed when they saw Damon’s dark figure behind Shoshana. He took her arm to stop her from getting any closer and Caroline took the opportunity to break free and join the other girls.

Damon spun Shoshana around and glared down at her as if he were still chiding her. “Is that Elena?” he hissed, barely audible.

“One way to find out,” Shoshana replied, and she walked over and gave the other girl a big hug. “Elena, you were _so_ nice to suggest coming to the mall. I hope I haven’t spoiled everything!”

“No, of course not,” Elena assured her, and it _was_ indeed Elena. “Damon’s just being an a‑s, like usual.”

Damon drifted closer, glancing around in what he feared was an overly-suspicious manner. “Nice little outing. Time to go.”

“ _We_ just got here,” Bonnie pointed out indignantly. “ _You_ can go.”

“You do what you want, little witch,” Damon shot back, “but I’m taking these two with me.” He indicated Shoshana and Elena.

“That’s a really rude nickname,” Caroline decided to point out, emboldened by her earlier success.

Damon’s sudden glare made her step back. “You wanna hear my nickname for _you_?”

Shoshana took his arm with one hand and kept hold of Elena with the other. “I think it would be best if we left,” she said soothingly. “It was so much fun driving over here with you guys! Promise you’ll come over tomorrow and show me what you bought.”

Bonnie and Caroline dubiously promised, Shoshana gave them parting hugs, and then Damon shooed her and Elena towards the exit like he was herding sheep, always on the lookout for a wolf. Elena, sensing something else was going on, held her tongue until they were out in the parking lot.

“Okay, what’s wrong?” she demanded, turning on Damon. Shoshana hadn’t let go of her since hugging her at the store.

“Are you _sure_ this is Elena?” Damon asked, though he was fairly certain himself at this point—he’d been sniffing her all through the mall and he didn’t think Katherine could fake her scent that well. Especially the lingering _eau de Stefan_.

“Who else would I—“ Elena started to ask in annoyance, then the answer dawned on her and her eyes widened in horror.

“Of course I’m sure,” Shoshana replied, giving her another hug. “She’s warm and cuddly and soft, and Katherine is cold and hard and prickly.”

Damon gawked at her. “You _hugged_ Katherine?” The thought was akin to putting his hand in a wood chipper… yet at the same time, oddly alluring.

“Sure, she was pretending to be Elena and she came in the dressing room with me,” Shoshana reported, as Damon checked his car for any unwanted additions. “I knew it wasn’t you because her shoes were different, and the store doesn’t sell shoes,” she confided to Elena.

Damon opened the door to the back seat and gestured for the two girls to get in. “You hugged her _after_ you knew it was Katherine?” he realized. “G-d, you’re dumb. How are you still alive after all these years?”

“You must have been terrified!” Elena said, countering Damon’s insult as he got into the car. She rubbed Shoshana’s arm. “You were so brave…” In fact Elena looked more upset by the incident than Shoshana did—it was unsettling to know there was someone who looked exactly like you running around causing trouble. “What do you think she wanted?” she asked Damon worriedly. “Will Bonnie and Caroline—“

“I think she wanted to check out Shoshana,” Damon speculated. “And you _hugged_ her,” he repeated sarcastically. “Good show of strength.”

“Well, I didn’t want to give away that I knew,” Shoshana pointed out sensibly. “She could probably pop my head off, and I’m not sure how I’d recover from _that_.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Elena insisted fiercely, putting her arm around the other girl even though she didn’t seem especially distressed. Shoshana didn’t seem to mind the attention, though. “We’re going to make sure you’re safe. Aren’t we?” she directed at Damon.

“Of course,” he answered automatically. “Call Stefan and warn him. Tell him to check the house.” Elena scrambled to dig out her phone. “You need to get stronger,” he added to Shoshana.

“Oh, you’re so mean sometimes,” she responded with a sigh. “I went out even though you told me not to! That has to count for something.”

“Growing strength? Or growing stupidity?” Damon considered. “We’ll see next time I bite you.”


	11. Chapter 11

Pounding footsteps. Thumps. Muffled crashes. Muffled screams. Elena could not. Take. Anymore. Of this. Without even thinking she jumped out of bed before Stefan could grab her, yanked open the bedroom door, and leaned over the hallway railing. “Stop it!” she screamed. An unnecessary touch, perhaps, as she could see them right below her in the living room, but her level of frustration was too high to control herself. “Just stop it! Stop it and go to bed!”

Damon glanced up at her in surprise. And Shoshana took the opportunity to stab him through the heart with a wooden stake. Then Damon turned to _her_ in surprise, staggered, clutched at the couch for support, and collapsed to the floor. Shoshana stared at him a moment, then took off like a rabbit through the front door.

And like that, it was over.

Elena stood frozen in shock for a moment, clutching the railing, her throat suddenly dry, head light. Her lips moved but no sound came out, and she realized she didn’t know what she would’ve said anyway. Then suddenly she found herself halfway down the stairs, her feet moving of their own accord, as she raced to the living room.

Damon was lying on his side on the floor and she turned him gently onto his back, the sharpened wooden spoon sticking out of his chest drawing her gaze. She’d thought maybe it hadn’t hit his heart, maybe it was just _near_ it, but, oh G-d, he wasn’t moving, he wasn’t breathing—well, he didn’t need to breathe, couldn’t go by that—but he _wasn’t moving_ —

Elena’s chest constricted suddenly, making it hard for _her_ to breathe, and tears stung her eyes as she gasped for air. G-d, all the times she had hated him, had wished him dead, but maybe not really, or not right now—

Stefan appeared beside her, his arms tight around her. “Shh, shh, shh, it’s okay,” he soothed her.

“N-no-no,” she choked out, wondering if everything around her had suddenly gone crazy. How could it be _okay_ , this was his _brother_ and he was _dead_ , _really_ dead—

Stefan reached over and yanked the wooden stick out, examining the bloody sharpened point with interest. Then he set the weapon on the floor out of the way and unbuttoned Damon’s shirt to get a better look at the injury. Elena couldn’t stand to see it and buried her face against his shoulder. “She had good aim,” he noted dispassionately. “Right ventricle, I’d say.” Elena wrapped her arms around him, clutching him tightly. Stefan was her rock, her point of serenity in the insane world they lived in—if _he_ was losing it, going into shock, she didn’t know how she would—

Damon moaned suddenly and turned his head, and Elena faced him with surprise blanking all her thoughts for the second time that evening. His hands twitched as he tried to figure out what had been injured and finally he opened his eyes.

“See, he’s alright,” Stefan assured Elena, setting her on the floor more comfortably. She seemed incapable of moving on her own at the moment.

“’Alright’ is a little strong,” Damon croaked, attempting to sit up.

“Just lie there for a minute,” Stefan countered, pressing lightly on his shoulder. “I’ll get you a drink.”

“What an excellent idea,” Damon agreed, to both the drink and the lying still.

Stefan went to fetch his drink and Damon rolled his head over to face Elena. “Bet you thought you’d gotten rid of me,” he smirked dryly. The grin vanished when Elena burst into tears in earnest, sobbing like a child and not even caring if she looked foolish. “No, no, don’t—“ Damon began, trying to sit up again. He still found it too painful and instead clutched at her hand with his, pulling her down to him. “It’s okay, don’t cry,” he told Elena in a surprisingly soothing tone as she rested her head on his chest below the wound. “Come on, why are you crying?”

“You’re alive!” she moaned, and he laughed a little as he was able.

“You’re crying because I’m alive?” he teased. “Well, I understand then. You must be very disappointed!”

He wasn’t sure if his attempt to lighten the mood had worked or not—probably not, judging from the hot tears he could feel soaking through his shirt. The thought of Elena crying over him was oddly thrilling but also somehow—wrong. Wasteful, almost. He was very glad when Stefan returned with his drink and took charge of her, even as he missed her warmth against him.

Finally Damon managed to sit up, with Stefan’s help, and lean against the back of the couch, panting with the effort. His chest burned but when he looked down he saw the hole in his flesh slowly healing, a sight at once fascinating and disturbing. He knocked the drink back quickly.

Stefan had brought one for Elena, too. “Here, drink this, all at once,” he instructed her, and she did so, the burn in her throat distracting her from crying.

“Guess she’s getting stronger, huh?” Stefan said to his brother, his tone bone-dry.

“Strong enough to stake me,” Damon agreed, not especially enamored of that part.

“And strong enough to bring you back,” Stefan added, which was really his point.

“I don’t understand,” Elena said distinctly from her position wrapped securely in Stefan’s arms.

“Well, you know how you could always rely on staking a vampire through the heart with a wooden stake to kill him?” Damon asked her, still stretching and wincing. “Yeah, that’s not gonna work now. Sorry!”

Elena tried desperately to grasp at the threads of what he was saying, but her mind was too rattled to focus. “Drinking Shoshana’s blood has made him strong enough to survive what would have killed him before,” Stefan laid out for her patiently. He gave Damon a sardonic look. “You could probably have a chaser of vervain and still feel fine.”

Damon grimaced. “Let’s not try it yet.” Starting to feel better he looked around curiously. “So where did the little vampire-slayer go? I’m gonna guess a dark corner under a veil of tears.”

“You’re such an a-s,” Elena declared loudly.

“You wanna hug me, don’t you?” Damon asked her with an obnoxious smirk, knowing the taunt would prevent her from doing so. Her crying over him was bad enough, he didn’t think he could handle a life-affirming embrace as well.

“I think Shoshana ran outside,” Stefan offered. The front door creaked on its hinges as if in agreement.

Damon stared at him. “Oh, well, _great_ , she’s probably only been captured by evil vampires by now!” he exclaimed, starting to stand.

“Which ones are those again?” Elena said to him pointedly, her earlier emotions now flowering into anger. Shoshana wouldn’t have staked him if he hadn’t been tormenting her, after all.

“No one likes a mean drunk,” Damon warned her patronizingly.

“I’m not drunk!”

Stefan slid himself smoothly between them. “I’m sure Shoshana’s fine, she’s only been gone a few minutes,” he placated. “I’ll go look for her.”

He started to stand and Damon grabbed his leg. “I’ll go,” he countered, clambering to his feet awkwardly.

Stefan gave him a look. “If _you_ go after her, she’ll run, you’ll chase, and this whole thing will begin again,” he pointed out. “I’ll go talk to her and convince her to come back.”

Damon seemed to give this serious thought. “I can stay here with Elena?” he checked.

“If that’s alright with Elena,” Stefan replied tolerantly, and Damon swiveled to look at her.

“I’m going back to bed,” she declared, standing and heading for the stairs. In the space of just a few minutes she’d already been through far more emotions than she was comfortable with, and she felt exhausted.

“You better get going,” Damon prompted his brother, who was watching Elena with a regretful expression. Clearly he would rather have been following her and making sure she was alright.

“Just… stay here,” Stefan told him. “Please.” He didn’t need Damon making this any more difficult.

Shoshana wasn’t too hard to find; she’d only gone a little ways into the woods, barely out of sight of the house, and was sitting at the foot of a tree, crying. Stefan sat quietly down beside her.

“It’s only me,” he assured her.

“I know,” she sniffled. “Damon would’ve grabbed me by now. He’s so… grabby.” Stefan nodded understandingly and leaned back against the tree, waiting for her to continue at her own pace. “I guess he’s okay,” she added, a slight question in her voice.

“He’ll be fine,” Stefan said. “You’re getting very strong. I can’t believe you stood up to him that way.” The note of admiration in his voice was unmistakable.

But she shook her head, uncomforted. “It’s not right,” she said into the darkness of the woods around them. “We’re not supposed to hurt each other like that. That’s not how people who love each other act.” She dissolved into sobs again and Stefan put his arm around her and pulled her close.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” he said to his second crying girl of the evening. His role as the one who cleaned up his brother’s messes did not go unnoticed by Stefan; but he could hardly ignore the people Damon hurt, especially when he cared about them himself.

“It’s always like this,” Shoshana moaned into his shoulder. “We always have to…” She shook her head, unable to get the words out. “It’s so wonderful sometimes!” she finally exclaimed. “And then every time something awful happens…”

Stefan let her cry for a little while, the sound constricting his own heart—he knew exactly what she was talking about. The happiest he’d ever seen his brother was when he was with Shoshana and things were going well between them. It made him seem human again, better than human, really, since even in their pre-vampire state Damon had been prone to trouble.

But all that could vanish so easily, with one ugly comment or gesture or thought, and everything that plagued Damon would bubble to the surface and taint everyone around him. Shoshana was a strong young woman, but Stefan saw no reason why she should have to contend with so much pain on his brother’s account.

“Shoshana, if you want to leave—“ he said quietly in her ear, and she tensed in his arms. “If you want to leave, I’ll help you,” he committed. He couldn’t say he hadn’t spent a few hours going over scenarios in his head, of ways she could leave, places she could go, ways he could persuade Damon not to follow her. She turned to face him and he tried to make his case without pressuring her. “I know you haven’t been here very long, but—you know what it will be like,” he reminded her. “It will get better, and it will also get worse. Beyond that, it’s dangerous here. Katherine knows about you, it’s only a matter of time before she tries something else. If you want to leave—“

Stefan never heard a sound, just felt the impact of another body crashing into his, knocking him to the ground. “You lying sack of s—t!” Damon snarled succinctly. “No, it’s my own fault—I should know by now not to trust you,” he spat as he and Stefan rolled across the ground. “You’re so high and mighty—you’d never lie to anyone, would you? Anyone but _me_!”

“You’re not good for each other!” Stefan gasped when he got the chance. “I’m trying to help _both_ of you—it nearly kills you whenever she leaves—“

“Thanks for trying to bring that closer!” Damon snapped. He was furious and it showed in his attacks, which were meant to hurt. Even without Shoshana he was stronger than Stefan, but despite their enmity something always held him back from unleashing his full powers on his brother. He toyed with him, sparred with him, even let Stefan push him around sometimes, and always he held himself back. But now he was dangerously close to losing control and Stefan’s only hope was to catch him with a lucky punch.

“Stop it!” Shoshana yelled at them, but her command was barely heard, and ridiculous as well. “Stop fighting, please!” When words didn’t work she took action, flinging herself at the flailing pile of limbs.

When she came to Damon and Stefan were both gazing down at her in concern and her head throbbed. “Oh, you stopped fighting,” she observed positively.

“For future reference,” Damon began, “jumping between two fighting vampires is really stupid.”

“I would have to agree on that,” Stefan nodded.

Both of them helped her when she tried to sit up. “Careful, you hit your head,” Damon pointed out unnecessarily, leaning her back against a tree.

“On what?”

“Er, someone,” he explained vaguely. “It all happened rather quickly.”

“We should go back to the house,” Stefan suggested.

“Oh, are you sure you don’t want to take her straight to the train station?” Damon sneered at him. “Straight to the Witness Protection Program?”

Stefan rolled his eyes. “Don’t be so paranoid.”

“It’s not paranoia when I _heard you plotting_ —“

Shoshana put a hand on his arm. “Please don’t yell.”

“Oh, sorry,” Damon apologized immediately, in a softer tone. He brushed some hair back from her face. “You’re gonna have another shiner tomorrow,” he told her with a sheepish grin. “Elena is gonna hate me.”

“She doesn’t hate you,” Shoshana corrected. She couldn’t help it; when he was sweet to her, even a little bit, her heart just melted. Thinking of this she started to cry again.

“Oh, no, no,” Damon soothed. “What’s wrong? Does your head hurt? Do you want to go home?”

“I’m sorry,” she finally choked out. “I’m sorry I—“ She put a hand over his heart, where the mark from his wound had completely faded already.

“No, don’t be,” Damon insisted. “No, it’s fine, it didn’t hurt at all.” Stefan glanced away at the obvious lie, not sure what all of this was supposed to accomplish.

“I wanted it to hurt!” Shoshana suddenly shouted in frustration, startling them both. Then she felt guilty about her desire and started crying again.

“Okay, it hurt like h—l, it really did,” Damon tried helplessly. “Is that what you want to hear?”

“I don’t know,” Shoshana confessed brokenly. “I don’t know what I want.”

Damon embraced her gently. “Let’s go back to the house,” he suggested. “You can have a hot shower and go to bed—“

She shoved him away. “No! I don’t—I don’t know…” She buried her face in her hands as if trying to blot them all out.

Stefan saw the shift in Damon’s body language and tensed. “You can be happy here,” Damon told her, in a less soothing tone. “You can stay and be happy with your friends and the house and the town—“ She shook her head and his voice became more desperate. “Just don’t leave. Don’t leave yet. We can—Sosie—G-------t, Sosie, I married you and you _still_ left!” he pointed out furiously, punching his fist into the tree trunk beside her head. Bits of bark flew everywhere. “What more can I do to make you happy again?”

“We’re never happy!” she finally exclaimed, despair coloring her words. “You’re always—you’re always obsessed with Katherine—“ Damon drew back like she’d slapped him. “Finding her, loving her, hating her, killing her—we can’t be happy when you’re always thinking about _her_ , when you’re just using me to get to _her,_ when you’re just waiting for _her_ —“

Damon stared at her in shock for a moment. “No, I—“ Then he stopped and actually thought about it. “I haven’t—No, I—“ He wanted so badly to deny it, to deny _some_ part of it, because it _wasn’t_ true, not this time, maybe in the past but—What could he say? That he _hadn’t_ brought her here to help him fight Katherine? That he _hadn’t_ thought of Katherine in weeks? Patently untrue, and they all knew it. But yet there was more to it than that. He knew there was more, and he had to make her see it.

Stefan said that he always crushed the things he loved. Well, he could be like Stefan and let them go instead.

Damon stood abruptly and Stefan scrambled to his feet as well, not knowing what to expect. Damon backed away a few feet, then turned his back on them. “If you want to go, you can,” he said distinctly. “Stefan can help you. I won’t stop you.” He started to walk back to the house, leaving her crying behind him in the dark. He felt like he was leaving part of himself there as well.

Stefan jumped in front of him seconds later. “What are you doing?” he hissed.

“Letting her go,” Damon snapped, pushing him out of the way. “Setting her free and all that bulls—t—“ His eyes stung and he rubbed them with the heels of his hands, not caring if Stefan saw.

“S—t,” Stefan swore in frustration. “Even when you try to be noble you f—k it up!” The fit of temper was rare for him and startled Damon into paying attention.

“What are you talking about?” he asked in irritation. “I’m just trying to—I’m trying to‑‑“ Not ever have to think about it again, that’s what he was trying to do.

“You’re such an idiot!” Stefan said to him, shaking his brother as if it might stir up some sense. “You just confirmed to her that it’s all about Katherine! Go back and tell her you love her and don’t want her to go!”

Damon stared at him. “But you were just trying to convince her to leave!”

“You—“ Stefan momentarily looked like he was about to tear his hair out. “You make people crazy and you don’t even try!” he accused. “You’ve _always_ done this! How do you do it?”

Damon truly had no idea what he was talking about. “Just natural talent, I suppose,” he answered anyway.

“Do you love her?” Stefan interrogated. “Do you want her to stay?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Damon snapped. “Isn’t that blindingly obvious?”

Stefan rolled his eyes as if to say no, it wasn’t. “Then go tell her that!” he commanded. “And stop being such an a-shole to her.”

“Gee, you make it sound so simple,” Damon sneered, his automatic response to difficult situations.

Stefan got right in his face. “If you put one-tenth of the effort into loving your wife as you put into hating your ex, we wouldn’t be out in the middle of the f-----g woods right now.”

Damon blinked at him, about to make some glib remark in return. Then he stopped and actually considered what his brother had said. Stefan could see in his eyes the exact moment when he really _got it_.

Damon turned and whooshed back to Shoshana’s side, startling her with his sudden appearance. “No, I don’t want you to go, Sosie,” he told her, pulling her into his arms. “I love you and I don’t want you to go! Do you—do you _want_ to go?” he asked hesitantly.

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “I don’t want to think about it anymore.” But her default stance seemed to be staying with him, at least for the moment.

Damon scooped her up easily. “Well let’s just go back home for the night,” he suggested, heading out of the woods. “We can talk about it more later.”

“Okay,” she agreed sleepily. “Are you going to bite me soon? I must be very strong now.” She opened her mouth in a huge yawn as she said this and Damon smirked a little.

“I’ll do it later,” he promised. “It bothers Stefan when I do it in front of him.”

“Stefan should have some, too,” Shoshana decided. “I don’t want him to get hurt.”

“I’ll be fine,” Stefan assured her as they passed him. He fell in step beside them, pushing branches aside for Damon.

“It’s not like drinking human blood. It won’t send you on a bender,” Damon pointed out to him, though in a less obnoxious and more matter-of-fact tone than he normally used.

“I didn’t realize Katherine would look _so much_ like Elena,” Shoshana commented, sounding worried. “She could do a lot of bad things that way. People would trust her, let her get close to them.”

“Say, within hugging distance,” Damon remarked dryly.

Shoshana flung out one arm in Stefan’s direction and both boys stopped moving. “Here, Stefan,” she offered. “Please? I give you permission.”

“You don’t _need_ to give him permission,” Damon reminded her. He saw a flicker of emotion cross his brother’s face. “Oh, _that’s_ the problem, huh?” he realized, without too much sympathy. “Come on, she was practically dead when you got to her. Refusing to bite her now isn’t going to change the past.”

Shoshana swung her arm temptingly in front of Stefan’s face as he blinked at Damon. “I can’t believe your advice makes sense to me,” Stefan finally said.

“Well, I can’t believe you cussed me out,” Damon shot back cheerfully. “Did you hear him?” he asked Shoshana. “It was three whole swear words. And I can’t believe _you_ actually staked me. So it’s been kind of a weird night.”

Stefan didn’t want to give in because he was tired of arguing or because he was afraid of Katherine’s greater power and who she might hurt with it; in fact he didn’t want to give in at all. But if Shoshana was freely offering, and if Damon was going to treat her better instead of keeping her captive…

“Not right now,” Stefan decided politely. “But maybe later.” Once he saw if things _really_ improved.

“Ooh, I think we’re making progress,” Damon smirked. Shoshana retracted her arm, unoffended by the rejection, and mumbled something against Damon’s neck in a slightly whiny tone. “Okay, okay, we’re going to bed now,” he agreed, walking across the lawn to the house.

Stefan opened the door for them and followed them upstairs. Damon carried Shoshana into her own room as Elena poked her head warily out of Stefan’s. “What’s going on?” she asked suspiciously.

Stefan startled her by hugging her close. “Maybe it’ll be better now,” he whispered in her ear. But he’d been around too long to get his hopes up just yet.

 

Damon sauntered into the kitchen the next morning to see Shoshana making herself a waffle on an ancient-looking waffle iron. “You can have a new one of those,” he reminded her, opening the door to the fridge and peering inside. “They make some now that print shapes on the waffles. Like Mickey Mouse.”

“Tempting, but this one’s hardly been used,” she countered cheerfully. “What are you looking for?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he decided, shutting the fridge. Actually he’d been looking for a beer, but he realized he neither needed one to take the edge off his hunger nor had any where Shoshana could easily find them. Apparently he’d spent a lot of his time either looking for food or staving off hunger with alcohol, something he only realized once Shoshana was around and he didn’t need to do either.

Instead he sat down at the table and watched Shoshana prepare her waffle. “Did you hear, Katherine said she never loved me, only Stefan?” he asked conversationally. “And that she really wasn’t trapped in the tomb, she could’ve found me whenever she wanted.”

“I heard the second part, but not the first,” Shoshana admitted, turning around. “That’s terrible. I’m so sorry.”

Damon smirked darkly. “You realize you wouldn’t know me at all if she’d been a nicer person.” The smile faded. “Maybe you think that would’ve been better.”

Saying _no_ would be ridiculous. But she didn’t want to say _yes_ , either. “I don’t like to think about _what ifs_ ,” she answered instead, messing with the waffle iron again. “Like you told Stefan last night, you can’t go back and change things, so it’s silly to speculate. Lots of things would be different if Katherine had been more like Elena.” She glanced back at him. “But that does make my earlier question more relevant,” she pointed out. “Which you never answered, by the way.”

“Remind me,” he requested.

“Does it bother you that Elena _also_ chose Stefan?” She asked this not meanly but out of a genuine desire to know.

There was a long pause and Shoshana turned around to see a thoughtful expression on Damon’s face. “Have Stefan and Elena left for school already?” he asked instead. She indicated yes, waiting for his answer. “Good, then we can have sex before we discuss such a serious subject,” he told her flippantly.

Shoshana rolled her eyes and went back to her waffle, prying it from the iron so she could add toppings. Damon watched her movements intently, not as done with the question as his remark suggested. “I don’t really feel like Elena _didn’t_ choose me,” he finally said, slowly.

Shoshana quirked an eyebrow at him and carried her plate to the table. “You’re gonna have to explain _that_ one,” she said dryly.

He leaned forward as she sat down, determined to try. “I know I like to flirt with Elena—“

“Is _that_ what you call it?” she teased, cutting into her waffle.

“And if she, Stefan, and you were all okay with it, I would do her in a second,” he declared.

“I don’t think she’d be very impressed if it only took a second,” Shoshana told him sweetly.

“ _HA_ ,” Damon said sarcastically. He scooted closer and grabbed a strawberry slice off her waffle, popping it into his mouth. Then he grimaced at its lack of flavor and swallowed regretfully as Shoshana giggled heartlessly at his impulse. “But I don’t feel like I _don’t_ have her,” he went on, groping for the right words. “I mean, Elena _likes_ me. Maybe not very much, maybe not right now,” he acknowledged, “but she genuinely _likes_ me. Last night when she thought I was dead—really dead—she cried. Buckets.” He still wasn’t sure what to make of this.

“Oh,” Shoshana remarked sympathetically. “I didn’t really get the chance to speak to her this morning. She left before I could make her breakfast!” A cardinal sin in Shoshana’s book.

“But see, she _likes_ me,” Damon repeated, slightly mystified as to _why_ but absolutely certain it was true. “She’s not just—using me to play some part in a drama starring herself.”

“Hmm, who could you be comparing her to _there_?”

He acknowledged her point. “It might even be more than powerful sexual tension,” he mused, frowning when Shoshana snickered at this. “I just kind of feel like… she’s _ours_. Mine and Stefan’s.”

“Ooh, can she be mine, too?” Shoshana asked excitedly, completely serious.

“Yes, absolutely,” Damon assured her, managing to keep a straight face. “I’m sure we can all… split her.”

Shoshana frowned at him suddenly. “I didn’t think you meant it in a _dirty_ way,” she complained primly.

“I didn’t, I didn’t,” he promised with a grin. “Not until _you_ said something, anyway.”

“Well, I think it’s sweet,” she decided as she ate her waffle. “I like Elena _so much_ , I could just grab her and squeeze her and never let go.”

“I know the feeling,” Damon admitted. “She and Stefan tend to frown on that, though.” He paused a moment, then asked curiously, “In Vancouver”—a dark flicker of emotion crossed her face, but he proceeded anyway—“did you have friends you liked as much as Elena and Bonnie and Caroline?”

He waited patiently for her answer. “I didn’t really—I don’t really _feel_ things… alone… like I do with you. And Stefan,” she added quickly. “I liked my friends but it wasn’t so…”

“Intense?” he suggested.

The corner of her mouth turned up sardonically. “Yes, things are much more _intense_ here, that’s for sure.”

“That’s how it should be,” Damon avowed. “It shouldn’t be dull and grey and kind of nice and just okay.”

“It should be… crying and screaming?” Shoshana asked flatly.

“Don’t forget the snuggling with your new girlfriends and the super-hot vampire sex, freely available should you wish to partake,” he added.

“Is that supposed to balance out the crying and screaming?”

“Sometimes it includes it.” Shoshana rolled her eyes. “Don’t deny that you feel better, healthier, more alive when you’re with me than on your own,” Damon stated.

“Ironic, considering I’m actually dead,” she shot back frostily.

“Well join the club,” he told her. “Death has a surprising number of grey areas.”

“I don’t want to talk about death,” she decided, taking a bite of her waffle with determination.

“Okay,” he agreed. “Do you want to talk about your foster parents in Vancouver?” He’d meant to say the words, but he hadn’t really thought about the reaction they would get until she fixed him with a cold stare.

“No, I don’t,” she informed him. “Don’t go spoiling everything!” Clearly she thought he had, though, and she started to get up from the table.

Damon’s hand shot out and grabbed hers, softening his grip once she’d stilled. “I’m sorry,” he told her—for bringing it up, not for killing them. “Let’s talk about where we want to go today.” Stefan frequently used distraction with Elena, to great success.

Shoshana couldn’t hide her interest. “We’re going somewhere today?” she asked warily.

“There’s a used bookstore in town,” he revealed to her, turning her hand over to trace her palm lightly. “I thought maybe you would like to go there and buy things.”

“Really?” He indicated yes and a smile lit up her face. He didn’t even realize there was a matching one on his own.

“So, you better go get dressed,” he decided, taking her empty plate. “You can eat more when we come back. But we should go now, er, while it’s early.” And before he changed his mind.

 

A little-known secret about the Salvatore library was that some of the books were fake—just cardboard spines that looked leather-bound and gilt-edged. Other shelves were filled with random old books bought solely for their appearance, like encyclopedia sets. Well, it was a huge library, and when you had perfect recall there was no need to keep the books you’d already read, unless a) they looked nice or b) you were Stefan. Besides, today’s encyclopedia-sets-as-décor were tomorrow’s collectors’ items, which could be sold at a considerable profit to some salivating bibliophile as long as you had the patience to wait fifty years or more. They were an _investment_.

This was what Damon was explaining to the pasty, gangly stock boy who helped him carry his newly-purchased 1996 _Encyclopedia Britannica_ out to the car. He had the feeling the boy wasn’t picking up any good advice, though. “Don’t bend the corners,” Damon ordered him instead. He glanced back through the store window and saw Shoshana right where she was supposed to be, in his sight, looking at the display of local history books.

“We have all those, actually,” he told her dismissively once he was back inside. “Oh, except this one.” He added the book to the new stack he was making on the counter—it was always wise to keep abreast of any new discoveries about local lore, especially when they might involve _you_. “I’m going to check out the occult section,” he decided. He never knew what familiar figures might turn up _there_ , either.

Occult was on the second-floor loft. Romance was on the first floor, back corner. Damon could look for any new old books about witches and vampires while still keeping an eye on Shoshana, who was filling her bag with one-dollar Harlequin paperbacks, dog-eared and wrinkled from being read in too many baths alongside too many martinis. Of course, _his_ books were equally stained with even less identifiable substances, which he hoped were not necessarily related to their contents.

Damon made a routine glance downward and did a double-take when he realized he couldn’t see Shoshana. He moved right, then left, and still she didn’t appear. Red began to flash in front of his eyes and he closed them, turning towards the wall. There was probably nothing wrong. She had probably just accidentally gotten out of his sight. He would go and look for her—as soon as he had calmed down a little, so he wouldn’t snap at her when he saw her.

“Damon?” Shoshana asked in a tiny voice, from right in front of him. Slowly his eyes opened and they were blue, not red; the one dark vein that had appeared quickly faded back to normal.

“Oh, there you are,” he said in a mild tone.

“I’m sorry I got out of sight,” she told him tremulously. “I just went around the corner and didn’t realize right away you couldn’t see me.”

“Well, no harm done,” he decided, easing his grip on the bag of books he carried. “I was just thinking of—a calming place.”

“A calming place?” she asked dubiously, not quite believing she’d escaped his wrath.

“Yeah, I read about it on an anger management website,” he told her, somewhat impressed that it had worked. “I just had to wait for psychology to catch up to my neuroses.”

Shoshana blinked at him like she had no idea what he was talking about. “Well, maybe we should go,” she suggested.

Damon, however, was quite pleased by his lack of temper tantrum. “Are you sure? Do you have enough books?”

“I have _tons_ of books!” she said with excitement. “I have lots at home I haven’t read yet, too.” Her eyes held a slightly manic gleam as she contemplated this.

He looked down at the stacks they both carried. By the time he paid for everything he would probably be at the end of his rope anyway. “Well, okay,” he decided, heading for the stairs.

A few minutes later all the books were loaded in the car and they were driving back through town to the house. “Thanks for taking me out,” Shoshana told him.

“You’re welcome,” he decided. Once they were home with no disasters he could declare it a good idea, but not before. A sign up ahead caught his eye and he hesitated, impulses warring within him. “You wanna stop at Starbucks?” he offered reluctantly.

Her eyes widened as though she feared he was joking. “Really?”

“We could run in and get something to go,” he modified. “Since you didn’t finish eating breakfast.” At least he presumed she hadn’t; he’d only seen her consume one waffle, which didn’t seem like much for her.

“Okay!” she agreed quickly, before he could rescind the offer.

Still fearing he was leaning too much on the side of generosity, of which no good could come—he was certain he wouldn’t be able to keep it up forever, leading to the inevitable crushing disappointment—Damon pulled into a parking space and followed her into the heavily-scented shop, closely packed with breakable displays. “Can we buy some coffee here to make at home?” she whispered hopefully.

“Sure, get whatever you want.” He approached the bright-eyed barista behind the counter. “One large coffee, black,” he ordered for himself. She seemed disappointed that it would take no skill to make his drink, but what did he need with hazelnut syrup, whipped cream, or a chocolate-stick garnish? He could barely taste them anyway. He glanced over at Shoshana, who was filling her arms with bags of coffee and easy-listening CDs like pretentious coffee shops were going out of style. “One large caramel apple cider, no whipped cream,” he ordered for her. “Whatever she’s carrying,” he added, nodding at Shoshana, and here the girl at the register began paying attention. “And one of everything in the pastry case. To go. There’s nothing odd about that, is there?” He didn’t use compulsion on her, though it would have been easy enough; the mere act of acknowledging the strangeness of his request intimidated her into quick agreement.

“No, not at all,” she assured him, hurrying to gather everything.

“Trade you,” Damon suggested a few minutes later, handing Shoshana an insulated cup in exchange for whatever branded travel mugs and flavored syrup bottles she’d decided she couldn’t live without. Only his supernatural strength and reflexes prevented a disaster as he transferred the goods to the cash register.

Shoshana seemed slightly surprised to be presented with a drink. “What is it?”

“Caramel apple cider.”

She was about to say something, then changed her mind and took a sip. “Wow, this is really good.” Idly they watched the shop girl pile pastries into a bag while another rang up the prices. “Someone’s getting a lot,” she commented.

Damon looked at her. “That’s us. Were you paying _no_ attention when I ordered?”

She raised her cup slightly. “Clearly not.” There was a little smile on her face, though.

“Well, I just figured we could look the selection over at home,” he went on, feeling the need to soften his last comment, “and anything you don’t want you can give to your friends when they come over next.”

Shoshana’s eyes lit up at his spur-of-the-moment offer. “When can _that_ be?”

“Erm, I don’t know,” he hedged, feeling trapped by his niceness. “Soon. Before the pastries are stale.”

Shoshana smiled at him and the claustrophobic feeling eased somewhat. “Thank you,” she told him, brushing her fingers against his own. A _different_ sort of constrained feeling replaced the other one entirely, one that was not so unpleasant.

Damon paid for the treats and they were duly carted back to the car, Shoshana practically humming with good feeling now. The bookstore had been a good start; the impulsive coffee run put it over the top, let her know she could relax a little. Damon barely kept his eyes on the road as he drove, preferring instead to watch her (fortunately not a problem given his reflexes).

“Oh, there’s a vintage clothing store in town,” she noticed as they went past. There was a slight hint in her tone.

“Maybe we could go there on our next trip out,” he suggested. Because relaxed or not, he had relinquished all the control he could handle at the moment, and he had to work to keep his foot from falling heavily on the accelerator, propelling them ever faster back home where it was relatively safe. Shoshana smiled at him and reached over to ruffle his hair, and it was all Damon could do to keep from swerving into the next lane. He liked seeing immediate rewards for this whole ‘being nice’ thing.

“Do you want these books down here or in your room?” Damon asked as he hauled the books into the house a few minutes later.

“Um, up in my room would be nice,” Shoshana decided, taking the food to the kitchen.

“You go ahead and start eating,” Damon told her as he headed upstairs with the books. “I’ll be along later.”

After half an hour Shoshana went looking for Damon, feeling alone in the large, empty house. She heard faint noises coming from his room—grunts, almost—and raising a curious eyebrow she tapped lightly at the door and pushed it open. In the far corner of the room Damon was naked to the waist, the muscles of his back and arms bunching and unbunching in a mesmerizing display as he did chin-ups on a bar firmly attached to the wall. Shoshana felt her mouth go dry as she stared up and down his body, the first thought in her mind— _this could all be yours. No, this_ is _yours_. Traitorous, really, and maybe not true, and she had to move past petty lustful thoughts and consider far deeper matters of trust, because beauty faded—well actually in his case it _didn’t_ , so her spiritual counsel broke down somewhat at that point, but in principle, beauty could _appear_ to fade when it only masked evil—but Damon wasn’t _evil_ , was he, she couldn’t bear it if he was, because she lov—

“Pay-per-view, honey. That’ll be $14.99,” he cracked arrogantly, setting himself down on the floor and turning to smirk at her.

The front was even better than the back and she wanted to throw herself at him, not even necessarily for sex (right away) but just to understand, in a tangible way, that he was all _hers_. And yet she stayed rooted to the spot, afraid to move forward even a step.

Damon’s smirk faltered when she failed to respond. “Am I so awe-inspiring I’ve actually rendered you speechless?” he asked, only partially joking now. “You’ve seen it all before… Is something wrong? Are you—“

He took a step towards her and the movement seemed to snap her back to reality. Yes, he was good-looking, and yes, he was technically her husband, but she had to understand the strength of his commitment to her before she completely embraced him. “Rabbi Herschel said there would be moments like this,” she remarked to herself.

Damon’s eyebrows shot up. “Well, nothing throws a bucket of ice water on a situation like mentioning a rabbi,” he said dryly.

“Why are you exercising?” she asked curiously, now that the initial flood of emotion was past. “Does it—change anything?”

“No,” he admitted. “Just burns off excess energy. Mental exercise more than physical, really.” And somehow he felt that explanation was rather lame, so he tried to distract her from it. “Come here and try.”

“Oh, you know I hate exercising,” she answered, her voice automatically starting to whine. “I’m not in very good shape—“

“Oh, your shape is fine,” he dismissed. In fact he quite liked it and didn’t mind telling her so. Though her refusal to believe him got kind of old. “Come here.”

Reluctantly she walked across the room to join him and noticed, for the first time, the weight machine tucked in the corner. “Do you exercise a _lot_?”

“Stefan says it improves my disposition,” Damon reported, and she wasn’t sure if he was joking or not. “The weight machine actually belonged to the human who lived here last,” he went on conversationally. “It’s mildly interesting if I put it on the highest setting. Mainly it’s good for impressing girls, who can’t seem to resist—“ He stopped himself, his expression saying it suddenly occurred to him that maybe talking about impressing other women in your bedroom, to your _wife_ , was not such a good idea. His expression _also_ said, he wasn’t sure how to get out of it—humor, denial, random humming?

Shoshana let him stew for a moment, then as he started humming she smiled and stepped in front of him, staring up at the metal bar. “So what am I supposed to do with this?”

“Put your hands up on it,” he guided, curling her fingers around the bar. His fingertips unnecessarily grazed her arms on their way back down. “Now just pull yourself up.”

Shoshana pulled, ending up on her tiptoes. “I don’t think it’s gonna happen,” she decided.

“Here.” Damon put his hands on her waist and lifted her, putting less power into it than he normally would so she could still feel like she was doing something. Her chin bobbed over the bar, then she pulled back and he set her down on her feet. “There you go.”

“I’m not sure I found that very satisfying,” she confessed, turning around.

Immediately his hands went to the wall on either side of her, holding her in place. “Oh, I’m sorry, did you come in here looking for _satisfaction_?” he purred, leaning in. “I am happy to provide that.”

He was sexy when he was being charming and flirtatious, there was no doubt about that. But somehow the overt propositions were easier to resist. The moments that really knocked her flat, took her breath away, were the casual things, when he was just washing dishes or working out or sitting on the couch reading, and not trying to do anything special.

So it only took _some_ , and not _all_ , of her willpower to gently push on one arm until he dropped it and she was able to step away from him. He gave her a curious look, trying to interpret the gesture.

“Do you want to see what books I got?” she inquired.

“I know—“ he started to say, then stopped himself again. This self-censorship thing was doing a number on his suavity, he felt. He _knew_ what books she’d gotten, he’d been right there and he had perfect recall. And she knew that. So this was, instead, an offer to spend time with her doing an activity she felt comfortable with. “Do I need to put on a shirt?” he asked, after a long moment.

“Yes,” she agreed cheerfully. “No shirt, no shoes, no service.”

“I don’t get much service anyway,” he muttered, grabbing his t-shirt from the couch and tugging it back on. She tsked when she saw it. “What?”

“You have a hole in the sleeve,” she pointed out. He yanked the sleeve around to look at it, making the hole bigger. “Clothes aren’t as sturdy as they used to be,” she fussed. “Shall I mend it for you?”

“No, let’s just throw it away,” he decided, peeling it back off and going for another one in a bureau drawer.

“I can sew it up so no one will ever notice,” she insisted, picking the discarded shirt out of the trash bin. “Or put a fun patch on it, like a lightning bolt.”

He stared at her. “Are you _serious_? It’s a t-shirt. Granted it’s John Varvatos but I’ve got dozens more. A _fun patch_? Please, this isn’t—“ The expression on her face said this approach was not really impressing her. “Er, here.” He took the t-shirt and held it up to her. “Um, would _you_ like to have it? Er, to sleep in? You could put a teddy bear patch on it,” he added desperately, trying to salvage the situation.

She took the shirt back. “I think I’ll wash it,” she decided inscrutably, “and then we’ll see.”

He didn’t know how to interpret that. But it did make him think of other sleepwear she owned. “Did you ever try on that Victoria’s Secret stuff?”

Shoshana rolled her eyes and started to leave the room. “I don’t know how you can even walk into that store, it’s so embarrassing,” she declared. She was still talking from the hallway, so he took that as a cue to follow her.

“Embarrassing? I don’t think so,” he countered. “It’s not trashy, it’s not even disreputable. It’s not like a sex toy shop or something.”

Shoshana wrinkled her nose at that idea and he rolled his eyes. “It’s weird for _you_ to go there,” she decided, turning into her own room. “I would shop there with just other girls.”

“You and Elena going lingerie shopping?” he speculated, sitting down on the floor next to her bookcase as indicated. “No, sorry, too tame. You’ve set the bar pretty high with all the snuggling,” he sniffed. “Now if you’d like to try it on, in the same dressing room, that’s a fantasy I could work with.”

She gave him a _look_. “It’s kind of skeevy to try on lingerie that other people might have tried on,” she decided. “Maybe if we brought it home, washed it, and _then_ tried it on…”

“How will you know you’ve bought the right size?” he persisted. “Lingerie is tricky to fit.”

She narrowed her eyes as if to say she was on to his little game of fantasizing about lingerie, her, and Elena, and didn’t appreciate it. “We could buy several sizes and donate the wrong ones to Goodwill,” she replied pertly. “You’re the one who always says we have money.”

“Lingerie for the poor,” he cracked tactlessly. “A VS babydoll in every bureau. That’s America!”

“Do you want to see my books or not?” she focused.

“Yes, please.”

“Good.” She handed him one thick volume. “Now here’s one I found in the history section, it’s in German! Isn’t that neat…”

 

Stefan hadn’t gotten any phone calls or text messages from the house all day, and neither had Elena, which made him just a little bit nervous. He could hear the music playing from the garage when he got home from school and warily moved to the edge of the living room, watching Damon and Shoshana dance with a sense of cautious relief.

The song was something recent and fast, and Damon gyrated with a grace and power that was, perhaps, not so surprising—he had a natural sense of rhythm, plus the utter confidence necessary to risk looking silly. Stefan had always been envious of that ability, especially once popular dancing became more casual and free-form. Shoshana moved more like a normal person, sometimes shy, sometimes awkward, but mostly just having a good time.

“Dramatic finish!” Damon declared, picking her up and spinning her around. “Dead swan!” Gamely Shoshana collapsed over his arm, her back arched and arms dangling limply as though she’d fainted. From that perspective she finally noticed Stefan—resulting in a squeal of surprise and a jump that Damon wasn’t expecting. Stefan zipped over and caught her, leaving his brother to tumble in a heap to the floor.

“Not exactly the dramatic finish I’d imagined,” Damon grumbled.

Shoshana turned Stefan’s catch into a hug. “Is school out already?” she wondered with excitement. “Is Elena here? I’ll make her a snack!”

“Uh, no, Elena’s not here,” Stefan replied. “She’ll come over later, though.” Shoshana hadn’t let him go from the greeting hug and her scent filled his nose, amplified by the perspiration from dancing. His eyes fluttered shut and his fangs itched to pop, but he didn’t want to hurt her feelings by moving away from her.

Stefan forced his eyes open again and saw Damon smirking at him from where he still lounged on the floor, clearly aware of his discomfort. “Why don’t you bounce on in to the kitchen and get Stefan some blood from the fridge?” he suggested to Shoshana. “He looks _starving_.”

“Okay,” Shoshana agreed readily, finally pulling away.

Both boys watched her go and then Stefan turned to give Damon a hand up off the floor. There was a moment when Damon could have suggested he bite Shoshana, or when Stefan could have thanked him for sending her away. But they both decided to ignore the problem this time. “What’d you guys do today?” Stefan asked instead as Damon turned off the music player.

“We went out,” he answered with a certain smugness, and Stefan rewarded him with an impressed expression.

“Really?”

“Yes, we went to the used bookstore, and Starbucks,” Damon reported, “and there was no yelling and no tears.” He flopped down on the couch, not tired out from dancing but rather ready for a change of position. Stefan sat down at the other end, giving him an expectant look. “And we played Scrabble,” Damon went on, “which I mean literally and not euphemistically. And we danced.”

Stefan nodded encouragingly. “And how has that been for you?”

“H—lish,” Damon admitted, leaning his head back against the arm of the couch. “This whole _trying_ thing is like… using atrophied muscles.”

Stefan smiled a little. “It’ll get easier,” he assured his brother.

Damon sat up suddenly and Stefan turned to see Shoshana return with a plastic water bottle of blood. “I put it in some hot water to warm it up for you,” she told him.

“Aw, just like baby’s bottle,” Damon taunted as Shoshana sat down between the two of them.

“Thank you,” Stefan told her pointedly, sipping the liquid. _Raccoon_ , he identified idly.

“Now, when’s Elena coming over?” Shoshana wanted to know, her tone businesslike. Damon leaned his elbow on the back of the couch and started to play with a strand of her hair, seeing how far he could go without attracting her attention. “Is she staying for dinner?” She leaned slightly into Damon; their body language didn’t go unnoticed by Stefan and it pleased him.

“Well, we have a big history test tomorrow to study for, so—“

“Like Saltzman is gonna give either of you a bad grade,” Damon scoffed.

“I think it’s so funny that Mr. Saltzman is your history teacher,” Shoshana observed. “It seems very coincidental.”

“Oh, nothing in _this_ town is a coincidence,” Damon claimed. “It’s all tangled, dark webs of destiny.”

“Quit tying my hair in knots,” Shoshana told him, before turning back to Stefan questioningly.

“Well, he does find my perspective on history ‘insightful,’” Stefan mentioned dryly.

“Maybe we should put that paper back up on the fridge,” Damon said with obnoxious sincerity, referring to the praised term paper Stefan spoke of.

“Oh, I would _like_ to read some of your essays,” Shoshana told him, with _actual_ sincerity. Damon nodded mockingly over her shoulder as Stefan squirmed a little in embarrassment. “They’d be so interesting!”

“He uses a lot of adjectives,” Damon warned.

“It’s really pretty routine stuff,” Stefan demurred. “Anyway, if Elena comes over for supper she’ll probably just want something light she can eat while studying. I can make her a sandwich.”

“Oh no, that would _never_ do,” Damon deadpanned.

Shoshana gave him a look, then faced Stefan with determination. “Well, it’s still early,” she decided. “I think I have enough time to roast a duck.”

“Roast a duck!” Damon repeated, finding this ridiculous yet typical.

She ignored his outburst. “Roast duck sandwiches with a nice orange-caraway spread,” she planned. “I made a loaf of bread yesterday. And I could bake some sweet potato chips. If you would slice them for me,” she requested of Damon in a sticky-sweet tone.

He grinned almost against his will. “I shouldn’t enable your domestic obsession,” he told her.

“Really, you don’t have to go to all that trouble,” Stefan insisted. “There’s lunch meat in the fridge, I’ll just—“

“Oh no, Elena is getting roast duck and homemade potato chips,” Damon assured him contrarily. “Does anyone else want to come over and study? Like Bonnie or Jeremy?” He assumed Caroline didn’t bother with such unpleasantness as studying. Shoshana’s eyes widened in delight at this idea. “But remember, they’re here to _study_ ,” Damon warned her. “You can’t be distracting them with hugs all the time.”

“I wouldn’t,” she told him primly.

They both turned to look at Stefan, who felt helpless under the onslaught of twin desires—Shoshana’s to take care of her guests and Damon’s to make Shoshana happy. He understood then that he’d better produce said guests. “Um, well, I’ll call Elena,” he agreed. He could already imagine her reaction to Damon’s new attitude—even heavier on the caution than his own.

“How fun!” Shoshana declared. She stood up and Damon did also, so Stefan stood as well, out of politeness. “Come on, we have to start preparing the food!” she told Damon. Then she grabbed his hand to lead him to the kitchen and Stefan swore he saw an expression of pleased astonishment cross his brother’s face. He liked seeing it there, and he was determined to do his part to keep it.


	12. Chapter 12

“Okay, it’s best to start with whole walnuts, because they retain their flavor better,” Shoshana instructed Bonnie. “But they have to be chopped up finely before we add them to the dough, and that’s a pain, so it’s handy to use a labor-saving device for that. Like a man.” Shoshana looked over her shoulder. “Damon, would you mind chopping the walnuts for us?”

“Crushing nuts is really more _your_ area of expertise,” he observed dryly, but he took the bag to the cutting board anyway.

“Thank you. Meanwhile, we can start stewing down the raspberries,” Shoshana went on.

Bonnie’s eyes widened. “We have to stew them down?” she repeated. “I thought the filling would just be raspberry jam or something.”

“Ha!” Damon remarked, whacking away at the walnuts. Bonnie gave him a narrow look—she was trying to restrain her caustic remarks as they seemed to upset Shoshana, but no one said she couldn’t shoot daggers with her eyes.

“Oh, you can use store-bought jam if you want,” Shoshana assured her. “But I just like to make the filling from scratch. Let’s start washing the raspberries.”

Once Damon had chopped the walnuts to the desired fineness he was allowed to leave the kitchen. He wasn’t sure he _wanted_ to leave, really; he felt he would’ve been content to lean against the counter watching Shoshana and Bonnie work, offering the occasional unhelpful remark or lifting something heavy.

But was that really a healthy use of his time? he wondered as he pulled himself away. He _wanted_ to continue getting along well with Shoshana. He _wanted_ Elena to not look at him with disappointment, which had been happening a lot less lately. But he _didn’t_ want to become soft like Stefan—well, it worked for Stefan, he was tougher than he looked—but Damon didn’t want to lose his edge. It had kept him alive (so to speak) for a long time and he couldn’t risk blunting it, not when there were so many vampires in town he might need to fight soon. He hadn’t hunted, for food or fun, for a while—he’d even stopped chasing Shoshana at night, since he could no longer justify it as somehow helping her. Stefan would call this a good thing, but Damon didn’t want to be out of practice should need arise.

He also rather enjoyed it. And he felt a little restless without that outlet for his energy, especially as Shoshana had not yet consented to resume intimate relations.

Damon wandered up to his room with a vague thought of working out more. But right away the piece of paper on his desk caught his eye—it had not been there earlier. It was a print-out from a news website, a story bearing the headline, ‘Three killed in home fire.’ He scanned it quickly just to make sure it said what he hoped it said, then went off to find Stefan—the most likely person to have left this little silent condemnation for him.

Stefan was reading in his room when his keen hearing picked up a faint noise and he spun around, catching a paper airplane that had been aimed at his head. He rolled his eyes when he saw his brother lounging in the doorway. He wasn’t smirking, however, but rather raising an eyebrow expectantly, so Stefan unfolded the piece of paper the airplane was made of, recognizing it right away.

“Shoshana could’ve seen that on my desk, you know,” Damon remarked neutrally. He sauntered over to the couch, kicking the door shut behind him.

“I had a feeling you’d find it first,” Stefan replied carefully.

“What’s the point?” Damon asked, stretching out in a chair across from Stefan with his feet on the coffee table. “You’re a little late on that Google search.”

“Don’t put your feet there,” Stefan told him. Damon scoffed but straightened up, obviously not finding it worth the fight. “Thank you. I started to wonder if anyone was looking for Shoshana,” he went on. “I knew her parents were dead, but—“

“And now you know no one _is_ looking for her.”

“Because you killed yet another innocent person to make it look like Shoshana was dead as well,” Stefan stated. “And set the house on fire to cover up how they really died.”

Damon blinked at him. “The Shoshana substitute was a hooker, a runaway, in case you were curious,” he revealed without remorse. “No one would miss her.”

“Ohhh,” Stefan replied with bitter sarcasm. “Well, it was okay to kill _her_ , then.”

Damon rolled his eyes. “I just meant, her disappearance didn’t leave a hole that needed investigation,” he clarified, without getting defensive. This was all routine for him. “If I’d just taken Shoshana, there’d be a massive hunt for her as a witness to, or suspect in, her parents’ deaths. But now people think she’s dead, and no one’s looking for her. Simple.”

“If killing three people is simple.”

“It is,” Damon replied levelly. “You breathe too hard, humans die. Killing them is not too complex.”

Of course the mechanics of it were not what Stefan was talking about, and they both knew it. “I take it Shoshana doesn’t know about this,” Stefan said after a moment.

“I didn’t burden her with details,” Damon agreed. His eyes narrowed. “I think Elena doesn’t know you were partly responsible for Shoshana’s death,” he speculated.

Stefan was slightly taken aback at the change in subject. Then he realized it wasn’t a change at all. “I wasn’t going to tell Shoshana about it,” he insisted. “She already knows what you’re capable of.”

“Oh, I wasn’t going to tell Elena anything,” Damon countered innocently. “Though it would no doubt come as a surprise to her. Did you tell her you’d slept with Shoshana?” he asked idly.

“Yes. Of course.”

“Of course,” Damon mimicked. “Well, I guess _that_ was predictable. G-d, they’re so cute together,” he noted, wandering off on a tangent. “Have you and Elena talked about having a more open relationship? With certain parameters, of course, like you get to watch—“

Stefan held up the crumpled news story. “We were talking about _this_ ,” he reminded his brother firmly.

“What’s to talk about?” Damon shrugged. “I did it. It’s done. It was what I had to do.”

“ _Had_ to do?” Stefan repeated, seizing on Damon’s attempt to justify himself.

“Yeah, had to do,” Damon said, getting irritated now. “Had to kill a girl to substitute for Shoshana. Had to set the fire to cover their real cause of death. Had to kill her parents so they wouldn’t look for her.”

“They _also_ wouldn’t look for her if she’d left peacefully, of her own free will,” Stefan pointed out. “They could even have come to visit.”

“She wouldn’t have left peacefully,” Damon scoffed.

“Did you try asking her?”

“No, I was too busy chasing her,” he shot back. “Because she _ran_ every time she saw me.”

“Gee, why would that be?” Stefan remarked sarcastically.

“What do you want from me, time travel?” Damon snapped. “I can’t go back and change the past. But we’re having a nice moment right now. Why are you trying to spoil it?”

Somehow things were always Stefan’s fault. “I’m not trying to spoil it,” he insisted. “I’m happy you’re having a ‘nice moment.’ Shoshana has a remarkable capacity to forget all the bad things you’ve done to her.”

“When’s the last time you and Elena had sex?” Damon asked intrusively. “You get very b‑‑‑‑hy when you haven’t gotten laid in a while.” Stefan rolled his eyes at the tasteless remark. “Seriously, don’t be afraid to get it on just because Shoshana’s here. Or you guys could go to a hotel. I’d cover for you if Jenna called.”

“How thoughtful,” Stefan replied dryly. “I just wanted you to know that I knew,” he added after a moment.

“Well, knowing is half the battle,” Damon deadpanned.

Stefan was about to say something else but Damon held up a hand to stop him, looking pointedly towards the door. After a second Stefan heard the footsteps in the hall. “Your hearing is better than mine,” he admitted.

“Stop the presses.” There was a little knock on the door and Shoshana pushed it open, seeing the boys inside.

“Are you two busy?” she asked.

“Not at all,” Damon answered easily. He relaxed and leaned back while Stefan discreetly wadded the news story up and tucked it away. “I’m just giving Stefan a little h—l,” he smirked.

“Oh,” she replied, as if she didn’t consider this very important. “Well, I was wondering if someone could come and help me and Bonnie in the kitchen,” she said as she crossed the room. She stopped by Damon’s chair and mussed with his bangs a little. “I like your hair when it’s a _little_ more fluffy,” she decided.

“Well give me a skirt and call me a poodle,” Damon declared, embracing the ‘fluffing’ trend warmly.

Stefan wanted to laugh at that. But then the paper crinkled in his hand and the desire faded, so his expression would’ve looked rather odd if anyone had been watching him. Fortunately no one was. And at that he _did_ smile, just a little.

“I’ll come help,” he offered, standing.

“Like h—l you will,” Damon decided competitively, also standing.

“You can _both_ help,” Shoshana allowed, calming Damon with a hand on his arm. “But remember, you mustn’t say rude things to Bonnie.” Damon whined in the back of his throat. “She’s been doing very well herself, so don’t bait her,” Shoshana warned.

Damon caught Stefan smirking at him as they left. “Do you have any more nuts to crush?” Damon asked darkly. “I think I’m in that kind of mood.”

 

“It’s just a dream, Sosie, it’s just a dream…” The words echoed through her head, distorted and slurred, but repeated over and over again until she heard them clearly. With a start Shoshana’s eyes flew open, facing the shadowed furniture of Damon’s bedroom and the window glowing with dim moonlight. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, her breaths coming in pants, the air chilly on her damp skin, the world reeling around her as her mind tried to process too many sensations, both real and imaginary.

“Sosie?” She looked down, noticing the arm anchored around her waist. It was strong, not very warm, but solid, tangible. The breath in her ear was real, too, and the lips that brushed, oh so delicately, across her cheek. “Are you alright?”

No, she wasn’t alright. She was cradled safely in the arms of the man who tormented her in her dreams, comforted by the very specter that also haunted her, and that wasn’t alright at all.

And worst of all, she wanted nothing more than to roll over and fall into his arms, to let him do what he was so good at, setting every part of her on fire until she forgot everything else. Because no one who could make her feel _that_ good could truly be the evil creature in her nightmares. And maybe that was the only way she could tell the real from the unreal.

But instead of doing that she scrambled away, fighting her way out of the blankets. “What’re you—“ Damon began in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

“I need to—I want to be alone,” she gasped out, finding herself standing on the cold floorboards and not sure where to go next.

“You don’t _like_ to be alone,” Damon countered in irritated confusion, but Shoshana couldn’t listen to him; he would only make her resolve melt away. She headed for the door.

“I’m going to my own room.”

“Well _fine_ ,” Damon huffed, punching his pillow viciously. He listened to her pad next door, heard her door open and shut. They were alone in the house; Stefan and Elena were sleeping elsewhere—whether at her place or somewhere else, he hadn’t said. Damon had a feeling his brother was taking his advice regarding getting laid—well, at least _someone_ around here was. Damon sure as h—l wasn’t getting any, despite nearly giving himself an aneurysm trying to be nice to Shoshana.

He heard the water running in Shoshana’s bathroom, as if she were taking a shower. Odd behavior at this time of night. He suspected she would rather he stay right where he was, in his own bed, and leave her alone; but he could leave her alone while still making sure she was okay.

With that resolution made Damon threw back the blankets and went to Shoshana’s room. He didn’t knock on her door, just opened it slowly and proceeded in when he didn’t see her. The bathroom door was shut and light shown from beneath it. Warm, humid air, scented with faint traces of soap and shampoo, wafted from the gap, detected by his heightened senses.

And then another smell, rich, musky, that he hadn’t smelled in a very long time, at least not so powerfully, knocked him to his knees outside the bathroom door. His vision reddened, his fangs popped—and they weren’t the only things stirred to sudden attention.

Damon closed his eyes, trying to get control of himself, panting as he leaned against the doorframe. The urge to kick the door open was strong but not irresistible, and that realization alone surprised him enough to clear his head a little more. Because the main emotion he felt right now was—relief, of all things. Relief that Shoshana was doing what she needed to do for herself, for the final step of her transformation from frightened and bewildered to confident and powerful. Even if he wasn’t allowed to assist.

Damon turned around and sat down on the floor, knees drawn up, back against the doorframe, imagining her movements in an exquisite self-torture. He didn’t want to interfere, didn’t even want her to know he was out there, but he also had no intention of leaving, none whatsoever. Not until she was done, no matter how painfully uncomfortable it made him.

But then he sensed that something was wrong. It was taking too long; the sounds were wrong, frustration not pleasure. If desperation had a scent, he was smelling it.

That was what finally broke him. “Sosie?” he said to the door, barely audible to himself. He made his volume louder, though his voice sounded shaky to his own ears. “Sosie?” She heard that, and all movement stopped. “Sosie, can I come in?” he asked, his throat raw. “Sosie, please, can I—“

The water shut off abruptly and there was a flurry of movement inside the bathroom. He stood painfully, ready when she opened the door. She was wrapped in a towel, hair damp on the ends, skin flushed, and he pressed his way past the door without even trying. “Go away,” Shoshana whispered fiercely, her voice threatening to break on a sob.

“No,” he told her simply. “Don’t. Let me—“ She moved away from him, a slow-motion chase, until her back was to the door and he shut it by backing her against it. He didn’t touch her but was barely half an inch away, the steam clinging to his bare skin, all the scents swirling around him, richer and stronger. “Just let me—I can—“ Her hand pressed against his chest, then slid upward, over his shoulder, behind his neck, and he took that as an assent and slipped his own hand between the folds of the towel.

Shoshana’s eyes closed and she tipped her head back against the door, biting her bottom lip. Her other hand gripped his arm for support, but he wasn’t going to let her fall. Not in a bad way, anyway. A little moan escaped from her and Damon’s focus narrowed to her lips, her face, noting every twitch, every groan, every arch of her neck until suddenly she gasped, fingernails digging into his flesh, and then her muscles went limp.

He caught her easily, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and clutching her against him while she regained her breath and her footing. He stroked her hair lightly, burying his nose in it.

He felt her breath catch and heard the tears begin a moment later, and they were like an ice-cold knife stuck through his newly-warm flesh. “Don’t—don’t cry, please,” he begged her softly, pulling her back to look at her face. “Not when—when I’m doing something _nice_.” The other times, he could understand; but he couldn’t stand to have her cry now.

Before he realized what was happening she pressed her lips to his and he felt like a dam had broken between them, releasing a flood of sensations. He devoured her mouth, knocked the towel to the floor, ran his hands up and down her skin, always aware of how easily she could be hurt, even if she healed right away. Her reluctance he didn’t have to worry about; her hands threaded through his hair, pulling him back whenever he dared to move away.

Damon yanked the bathroom door open and Shoshana hissed as the cold air hit her wet skin. An instant later she was lying back in bed, though, moaning her approval as Damon licked his way down her neck and past her collarbone. She felt his teeth—just regular teeth—graze her skin teasingly. “Be sweet,” she warned, or maybe she was begging. He nodded against her, understanding what she meant.

 

Maybe it was good that Stefan and Elena weren’t home tonight. Not that Shoshana was especially noisy, but the abrupt change in sounds from her might have inspired a little too much curiosity. Damon was still adjusting to them himself.

He slid back up her body, supporting himself on his elbows as he kissed her lips again, with no plan for stopping. At least until he had to ask a question. “Again?” he murmured, barely breaking the kiss. “Or wait?”

Her hands slid down his back, over the muscles that tensed and released at her touch, pausing only momentarily at the waistband of his sweatpants before starting to push them away. “Want _you_ ,” she moaned in his ear.

He closed his eyes for a moment, steadying himself. He didn’t want her to make a decision she would regret later. “Sure?” he checked.

Shoshana met his gaze, her eyes clear and deep. “I want my husband,” she said distinctly. He didn’t need any further prompting.

 

“Are you tired?” he asked her as they lay in bed, their arms intertwined in front of her.

“No,” Shoshana replied, pleasantly surprised. She wiggled back against him. “I’m not tired at all.”

“Good.” Damon nuzzled her ear, still reveling in his freedom to do so whenever he wanted. “Have I been sweet?”

“Mmm, yes, you have,” she agreed with satisfaction.

“Good,” he repeated. He pulled her even closer and purred into her ear, “I would like to be… less sweet.” A shiver ran through her. He judged it to be a good one. “Would that be alright?”

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak as anticipation dried her throat suddenly. “Mm-hmm.”

“I have all kinds of bad things I want to do to you,” he promised. And by _bad_ , he meant _very good_.

 

“Here, I made you some mac and cheese,” Damon announced, setting a large bowl down on the bed. “And here’s some cookies.” A plastic container of cookies Shoshana had made earlier in the week joined the pasta and then Damon crawled onto the bed himself, curling up behind her.

She finished chewing on a bite of apple. “Yum! I love mac and cheese. I wondered what was taking so long.” She leaned back momentarily to indicate her appreciation of his presence, then reached for the new bowl.

Damon took in the plates, bowls, and wrappers littering the bed with a slight roll of his eyes. Increased food consumption was a fairly minor inconvenience when it accompanied Shoshana’s extra power, he supposed. He just wished she could consume her calories _faster_ , because sometimes he got bored waiting for her to finish.

“Eat a bunch of the cookies,” he suggested, as if bringing them in had been too subtle.

“I don’t like to eat only sweets, it makes me feel cruddy,” Shoshana reminded him. “This mac and cheese is so good!” she added happily, spooning it straight from the bowl.

“It’s just from a box,” he dismissed. He slid his hand along her side, pushing her pajama top up and out of the way, and began to nuzzle at her skin just above her hip. Then without warning he sank his fangs in, swallowing the blood that welled out.

Shoshana made a noise of disapproval. “You could, you know, _tell_ me first,” she said with minor annoyance, realizing that him _asking_ her was clearly out of the question.

Damon ignored this, too busy trying to get what he could before the wounds from his teeth closed up. That was another, more annoying side effect of her increased power—faster healing meant he had less time to drink per bite.

So he had to bite her more to drink his fill. He licked the remaining blood off her skin, watching the small puncture wounds heal with some fascination, then completely rearranged himself and bit her in the same place on the other side.

That wound closed up too quickly for him as well. “Can I bite your neck?” he asked, a bit of a whine in his tone. A major vein would allow him to get more blood in a shorter time.

“No,” Shoshana told him firmly. “Not when I’m eating. It makes me choke.”

“Thigh?” he proposed cheekily.

“You may have _wing_ ,” she shot back, offering him her wrist as long as he crawled around to a more comfortable angle for her.

When he was done Damon left his head on her lap, letting her laugh at his expense as cookie crumbs fell on his face. “So what do you want to do today?” he asked her.

“Stefan and Elena are at school?” she confirmed.

“Presumably, the little punk,” he agreed, referring to Stefan. “It is _ridiculous_ that he slaves away as an underage student, especially these days when high school is barely more sophisticated than a nursery playgroup.”

Shoshana smiled fondly and brushed some crumbs out of his hair. “Don’t be silly,” she told him. “He goes to school so he can see Elena.”

“Well, there _is_ that,” he commented. “If I liked someone who was in high school,” he began leadingly, tracing the edge of her jaw with his fingertip, “I wouldn’t join her there, I’d _pull_ her _out_ to be with me.” That was, of course, exactly what he’d done with Shoshana, and though his tone indicated he considered this a good thing, she didn’t necessarily agree.

“Don’t spoil things,” she warned.

“You’re right, it’s best to avoid all unpleasant discussions,” he remarked dryly.

“It is if you want to continue having sex now.”

This was a very good point. “How about that weather, huh?” Damon said immediately, squirming restlessly in her lap. “It’s just so… cloudy. Except for the sunny parts.”

“Much more innocuous,” Shoshana approved.

“So what shall we do today?” he repeated, sitting up and wrapping his arms around her.

“Well, I think we should take a shower,” Shoshana decided. “And then a bath.” Damon could agree with both of those things. “Then I think we should change the sheets, because there seems to be cookie crumbs and macaroni in the bed.”

“ _Clearly_ something very kinky went on here when we weren’t paying attention,” he deadpanned, resting his chin on her shoulder. “Well that’s three things. That’s more than enough to start with, don’t you think?”

 

Stefan walked into the house from the garage, seeing no one and hearing nothing of interest, except perhaps water running upstairs. The electric bill still sat on the kitchen table and he carried it with him, frowning, as he entered the living room and saw Damon lying on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. Well, at least there was no Taylor Swift music playing.

“You didn’t drop off the electric bill today,” Stefan observed.

“Nope,” Damon agreed easily.

“Did you call about getting the patio fixed?” he asked hopefully.

“No.”

“Did you decide if you were going to New York for the Foundation board meeting?” Stefan tried, guessing the answer in advance.

“Hadn’t thought about it,” Damon shrugged. He sat up a little so Stefan could sit down on the couch as well.

“Did you do _anything_ useful today?” Stefan questioned tolerantly.

“No,” Damon admitted. “Just stayed in bed all day with the missus.” Stefan’s eyes widened at this statement and Damon smirked with self-satisfaction—though the expression was not nearly as obnoxious as it could have been.

“Really?” Stefan asked, cautiously optimistic.

“Yup.”

He seemed serious, so Stefan allowed himself to smile. “Well, good.” It seemed an odd thing to make much of, but Stefan knew it represented a major step in improving Damon and Shoshana’s relationship. At least for the time being. He wanted to ask for further details—not of _what_ they’d been doing, though Damon would gladly have shared that—but of how this transition had come about. But then he heard Shoshana approaching and decided it could wait.

She came down the stairs drying her hair with a towel. “Oh, look how late it is!” she exclaimed. “I haven’t gotten anything done all day, I haven’t even planned for supper—Hi, Stefan—“

When she got close enough Damon pulled her over the back of the couch into his lap, leaving Stefan to duck her flying feet. “You’ve been performing your wifely duties,” he told her loftily, above her squeals.

“Oh, wifely duties, hmm?” she repeated with considerable skepticism.

“Your first priority, to ensure the well-being of the head of the household,” Damon went on in an obnoxious tone. Shoshana settled against him and leaned up to give him a kiss, possibly just to stop him from talking.

“I’ll make supper tonight,” Stefan offered pleasantly.

“Good, go do that,” Damon dismissed, arranging Shoshana for some serious kissing.

She pushed him back momentarily. “Is Elena here?” she asked Stefan. “Is she coming over soon?”

“Maybe you can have Elena for dessert,” Damon suggested innocently. Shoshana ‘accidentally’ whipped him in the face with her wet hair.

“She should be here soon,” Stefan confirmed, trying not to smile. He pushed himself off the couch. “I’ll go work on dinner.” He wasn’t sure Damon and Shoshana noticed his departure.

Elena appeared a few minutes later, sneaking past the living room when she heard Damon’s voice in there. Once she got to the kitchen, however, she turned and looked back in amazement. Shoshana was sitting on the floor in front of the couch and Damon was brushing her hair, quite carefully.

“I forgot to use conditioner again,” she admitted.

“That’s why I got you shampoo and conditioner in one, so you wouldn’t _have_ to remember,” he chided lightly. “Didn’t you see it? It’s special for long hair.”

“I’m trying to use up the old stuff first,” she countered.

Elena turned to Stefan, who was staring into the cabinets trying to decide what to make for dinner. “They seem to be getting along well,” she observed in a whisper. Then, much to her astonishment, Shoshana tipped her head back and met Damon’s kiss. “Are they—“

Stefan pulled her farther into the kitchen and into his arms. “I think so,” he confirmed with a smile.

“When did _that_ happen?” Elena wanted to know.

“Last night, I guess. Glad we weren’t here,” he added.

Elena blushed pleasantly remembering what they had been doing the night before at the hotel just across the county line. “So does this mean things will be better between them?” she asked hopefully—but Stefan’s expression didn’t encourage her. “What?”

“It’s just—“ He hated to be a pessimist—but really, he was just thinking of the pattern he’d seen before. “It’s the long-term stability that’s a problem,” he tried to explain. “Damon tries to be nice, and she tries to be happy with what he gives her, but neither one can keep it up for long. Then they start fighting again and—“ He looked at Elena’s crestfallen expression. “I’m sorry,” he sighed, pulling her close. “That might not happen for years, though.”

“Maybe Damon shouldn’t—try for _nice_ ,” Elena suggested tentatively, her chin on Stefan’s shoulder. “Maybe he should just try to be himself, but a little better. Maybe that would be easier. And healthier.”

Stefan pulled back to blink at her. “That’s—that’s really—“ Suddenly Damon popped his head into the kitchen, mouth open, and Stefan pulled Elena close against him, signaling for his brother to shut up and go away. Miraculously, he did so. “That’s really brilliant,” he finally said. “You’re very insightful.”

“Oh, not really,” Elena demurred pleasantly, delighted at the compliment.

Stefan tried to look around her for Damon without _looking_ like he was looking around her. He wasn’t very successful and Elena gave him a quizzical look. “Um, here, let’s go…” he suggested, tugging her over into the butler’s pantry. He shut the door and then moved to the far side of the small room anyway, amid the dusty cans of soup and stacks of paper towels. He wasn’t sure how much Damon had heard of Elena’s comment—or cared about it—but for this next discussion Stefan didn’t want any interruption.

By the time he got situated Elena was giving him a confused look. “Is something wrong?”

“No, not at all,” he assured her, taking her hands in his. Actually he wouldn’t mind staying in this room with Elena for quite some time, leaving all their problems outside the door—there was something very peaceful about her presence, something warm and hopeful, that made him smile every time he saw her. Sometimes he just liked to stare at her, feeling that heady mix of contentment and possibility. He wondered if that made him as ‘creepy’ as Damon with his fantasizing gazes—probably not, considering what Damon’s fantasies tended to consist of.

Stefan knew, however, that their problems wouldn’t _stay_ outside the door, no matter how much he might wish them to. “What?” Elena prompted with a smile when all he did was kiss the back of her fingers gently.

“I’ve been thinking about something, and I wanted to know how you felt about it,” Stefan began quietly. She nodded intently. He felt the urge to cross his arms over his chest, a defensive gesture, but instead kept holding onto Elena’s hands. “I’ve been thinking about whether to drink Shoshana’s blood or not.” He wished he could read expressions better to know what her response meant—she was, perhaps, startled that this was what he wanted to talk about now, though she’d known the issue was imminent. “I didn’t want to do it when she was unhappy here,” he went on, a bit quickly, “but she and Damon are getting along better right now. And of course I would only do it if she said it was okay—“ He stopped to check on Elena’s reaction.

“If she said it was okay, I think you should,” she replied after only a moment, and Stefan couldn’t hide his surprise. “It doesn’t really hurt her, and it seems like it would make you more comfortable around her,” she explained. “So maybe you should just go ahead, if she doesn’t mind.”

He smiled a little. “You won’t—be upset with me?” he checked.

Elena dropped his hands and embraced him, which he took as a positive response. “No, I could never be upset with you,” she claimed, which he understood as slightly unrealistic but appreciated anyway. “I know how much you care about Shoshana, and you wouldn’t ever do anything to hurt her.” Stefan felt a guilty twinge at her words but decided now wasn’t the time to pursue that line of conversation. Besides, Elena had pulled back with a thoughtful expression on her face. “Do you think drinking her blood has made Damon stronger?” she asked Stefan seriously. “He always says it does, but I haven’t actually seen him _do_ anything—well, except for when she staked him and he…” She trailed off in a troubled tone and Stefan pulled her close again, rubbing her back soothingly. He knew how upset she’d been by that incident.

“When we first—met Shoshana, he used to show off a lot,” Stefan explained to her. “Now he’s—more restrained.” Damon restrained, what a concept—unless that meant _in restraints_ , which Stefan would’ve loved to see a few times. “Besides, there aren’t really any other vampires around to show off to, since Pearl has been keeping things quiet. But I have no doubt he _is_ stronger,” Stefan concluded, finally answering her question.

“Then I want you to be stronger, too,” Elena said softly, “if it’s not going to hurt anybody. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Stefan wanted to say something like, ‘Nothing’s going to happen to me,’ but obviously he couldn’t know that for certain. There was still a certain irony in the fact that a fragile, short-lived human—whom he had to be careful with even in a loving embrace—was worried about _him_.

“You know that Damon would—look after you, that he would protect you,” Stefan told her haltingly, “if—“

“I don’t want to think about it,” Elena whispered, clutching him fiercely.

“I know,” he agreed. “I just meant that he cares about you.”

They were both going to let that slide with no further qualification, it seemed—at least until there was an insistent pounding on the door to the pantry, making them both jump. “I know Elena’s a little slow to warm up, but J---s, get her off already and get back to making dinner,” Damon said crudely.

“Though he has a funny way of showing it,” Stefan muttered through gritted teeth.

“Order a pizza!” Elena snapped back tartly and Stefan chuckled a little, silently.

“Did you hear that?” Damon said to Shoshana outside the door. “That’s like Elena’s way of saying, ‘F—k off.’”

“No more than you deserve,” Shoshana decided. “You shouldn’t interrupt them.”

Elena kind of wanted to correct this wild misapprehension that she and Stefan were having sex in the pantry—but she also kind of didn’t, especially when she saw the mischievous glint in Stefan’s eyes.

“Well I guess we know where Stefan’s priorities are,” Damon noted, sounding a _tiny_ bit impressed. “You want me to make you some spaghetti?”

“No, I’m too hungry,” Shoshana declared. “Just make me a sandwich. And bring it upstairs.”

Damon didn’t seem to mind her bossy tone and both Stefan and Elena winced as her request was followed by a whirlwind of banging and clattering as Damon raced around the kitchen throwing food together. “He’s like a Tasmanian devil,” Elena whispered right into Stefan’s ear and they both stifled giggles. The close contact quickly turned into kissing, though they broke apart when they realized all was quiet in the kitchen. “I guess we should go clean up,” Elena sighed.

Stefan stopped her from leaving. “Let’s wait a while,” he suggested.


	13. Chapter 13

Stefan took it upon himself to make dinner the next night, even though he hadn’t been asked. Actually he did it _because_ he hadn’t been asked—he hadn’t even _seen_ Damon and Shoshana for twenty-four hours, though he knew exactly where they were and what they were up to. He and Elena had stayed at her place the night before.

He was slicing some vegetables at the counter when Damon shuffled in—bare feet, hair askew, shirt unbuttoned. “Oh good, you dressed for dinner,” Stefan commented dryly.

Damon ignored this and hopped up onto the counter, a pensive expression on his face. Which was never a good thing, frankly. “Shoshana’s asleep,” he reported.

“I should think so,” Stefan agreed. He gave Damon a sidelong glance. “Are you okay?”

“I think I’m going crazy.” Since his brother said this flatly, while staring at some phantom object in the middle of the kitchen floor, Stefan decided to give the declaration a tiny amount of consideration.

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“I literally _cannot_ think about anything but having sex with Shoshana.”

Stefan glanced over at him and, from his expression, gathered that Damon was trying really, really hard to think of something else, and failing miserably. He tried not to grin too much. “Why is this a problem again?”

“Well—she’s sleeping!” Damon pointed out irritably. “And I’m not.”

“It’s nice of you to let her sleep,” Stefan praised him quickly.

“And my fangs keep coming out,” Damon complained, as they did so. “And I just want sex and blood and—G-d, look at me, I’m drooling,” he added in disgust, wiping the corner of his mouth.

“You always get like this at first,” Stefan reminded him tolerantly. “It’ll even out soon.”

“I don’t remember it being so bad,” Damon countered. “I just want to—gnaw on things.”

He snatched a carrot from Stefan’s hand and started puncturing it with his fangs. Patiently Stefan picked up another vegetable to slice. “It’s probably worse because it took you so long to get to this point this time,” he suggested.

Damon made a reply that Stefan presumed was rude, but he couldn’t quite tell because Damon’s fangs were stuck awkwardly in the carrot. Elena chose that moment to walk into the kitchen. At first she was alarmed by Damon’s appearance; then, upon closer inspection, she was disturbed. “What are you doing?” she asked him, not sure she really wanted to know.

He managed to free his fangs and calm his expression somewhat. “I’m chewing on a carrot because Shoshana is asleep,” he answered matter-of-factly. This did not clear anything up for Elena.

“Come over here,” Stefan suggested to her, indicating his other side. “He’s a little out of his mind today.” Seeing the truth of this description Elena wasted no time complying.

Damon gave her a speculative look and asked politely, “Elena, would you like to have sex with me and Shoshana? We could get a head start while Shoshana naps.”

“Hey now,” Stefan warned mildly, smacking Damon’s thigh with the flat of the knife blade.

“I would have sex with Shoshana, but not you,” Elena decided coyly, and Stefan’s knife thunked into the cutting board as he tried to determine if she was serious.

“Can I watch?” Damon asked, undeterred. “Or listen at least?”

“Okay, time to go,” Stefan told him.

“I like this conversation,” Damon protested. “And Shoshana needs more sleep.”

“Go stare at her and think nasty thoughts while she sleeps,” Stefan suggested, shooing him away.

Damon dropped his chewed carrot back onto the cutting board with the vegetables Stefan (had) intended to serve and hopped down from the counter. “Maybe I’ll try to invade her dreams,” he decided eagerly. “That would be fun.”

“Dinner will be ready in half an hour,” Stefan called after him, not sure if he would see either of them at the table then—or if he wanted to.

 

It took a solid week for them to settle down, which was shorter than Stefan had feared but seemed like an eternity to Elena. He wasn’t really supposed to spend the night with her, though Jenna was surprisingly lenient about letting Elena stay over with _him_. He wasn’t sure what the rationalization was supposed to be there but didn’t question it too much, especially because he was perfectly capable of sneaking back up to Elena’s room after he’d supposedly left. (Though his confidence had been somewhat shaken since the night he’d gone downstairs to get Elena a drink and met Ric Saltzman in the kitchen doing the same for Jenna. They had made a tacit agreement to never mention the incident to anyone else.) So he had been spending a lot of time lately pretending to _not_ be at Elena’s house when in fact he was actually there being very quiet.

Somehow, this translated to not getting his homework done when he should, hence why Stefan was sitting at the kitchen table scribbling his calculus problems down one morning. The math was not at all difficult, but it all had to be written out to prove that he’d done the work himself.

Naturally that was the morning when Damon decided to throw himself down in the chair next to Stefan and have a chat.

“Did you know she sold her wedding and engagement rings?” he began, out of nowhere.

“You crushed yours and threw it in the ocean,” Stefan recalled distractedly. “And the second time you gave it to a homeless person.”

“Selling them is much more practical,” Damon agreed, if that counted as agreeing. “So when I bought the new set I made sure to ask for something that would have a high resale value in ten years.”

“You are such a romantic,” Stefan remarked dryly. Although really, it _was_ a rather thoughtful gesture, considering.

“But you know how she is,” Damon went on. “She likes the symbolism. Did you know she’s been going to the rabbi for counseling?”

“Marriage counseling?” Stefan guessed, reaching for a fresh piece of paper. Sometimes he seriously doubted his math teacher actually looked at all of this work.

“I’m supposed to go, too, but _that_ wasn’t happening,” Damon confirmed. “Why should I talk to a stranger about my feelings when I have _you_?”

Stefan didn’t really catch the sarcasm in his brother’s tone. “Mm-hmm.”

It was hard not to notice when Damon snatched the pencil from his hand and started twirling it through his fingers, though. Stefan made a noise of protest but it was ignored. “So what time do you get out of school today?” Damon wanted to know.

“Three, unless I get a detention for not turning my homework in,” Stefan replied irritably.

Damon rolled his eyes. “They don’t give detentions for not finishing one homework assignment, Mr. Class Brain,” he pointed out. “And even if you _did_ get one you’d serve it tomorrow, not today.”

“How clever you are to work the system,” Stefan commented, looking around for another pencil since it seemed he wouldn’t be getting the original back.

“You may need to skip last period, though,” Damon decided thoughtfully, “to make sure you have time to get home and change.”

“What are you talking about?” Stefan finally asked in exasperation.

Damon grinned at him, unperturbed. “Three-thirty today at the synagogue. We’re having the new rings blessed. You’re invited.”

_Now_ Stefan was paying attention. “Really?”

“Have you noticed how you always say that when I tell you good news?” Damon asked. “Like I’m going to turn around and say, ‘Just kidding, sucker!’” Stefan gave him a look. “Okay, granted, I’ve done that before,” Damon admitted. “But be honest, you saying ‘Really?’ in a shocked tone is hardly deep investigation.”

“I wouldn’t call my tone _shocked_ ,” Stefan protested. “Merely pleasantly surprised.”

“Elena’s invited, too,” Damon went on. “But you both have to dress properly. I don’t want you embarrassing me. You need a hat and a nice suit, and she needs some kind of… modest outfit,” he described, saying the word with distaste. “Not one of those sassy little spring dresses she’s been rocking lately. Afterwards I’m allowed to introduce Shoshana as my wife.”

A smile spread across Stefan’s face. “That’s great. I’m really happy for you two.”

“Yeah, well…” Damon shrugged noncommittally.

“What’s wrong?” Stefan asked him.

“Oh, you’re too busy, you have _homework_ ,” Damon dismissed snidely, dropping the pencil on the table and starting to stand.

“Oh come on,” Stefan replied, rolling his eyes. He grabbed Damon’s arm to stop him from leaving. “What’s wrong?”

For a second he thought he would have to guess based on Damon’s expression and body language. Then his brother shrugged a little and said, “Oh, the usual. Don’t want it to end like the other times. Like you warned me it would.”

“That’s hardly ‘the usual’ thing you worry about,” Stefan pointed out, feeling oddly more optimistic. “You _usually_ don’t even consider that.”

“So worrying about the dissolution of my marriage is good because I never cared before?” Damon surmised dubiously.

“Yes,” Stefan insisted. “Exactly. You’re trying to break the cycle. That’s an important step.” He paused a moment. “I can’t believe you’re married.”

“Get over it, it’s been fifty years,” Damon advised without sentiment. “Maybe I’ve decided _nice_ is too high a goal to shoot for,” he added pointedly.

Stefan rolled his eyes. “That’s not what she meant and you know it,” he claimed. “She just meant you should try to be yourself more instead of doing whatever Shoshana wants just to keep her happy.”

“Relationship advice is very counterintuitive,” Damon decided.

“Blame the Me Decade,” Stefan deadpanned. “Repression is out and self-actualization is in.”

“Do you even understand what you just said?” Damon accused.

“Yes, because I have a quiz in Psychology today,” Stefan assured him dryly. “But Shoshana loves _you_ , not the things you buy her or what you let her do.”

“I think she likes what I do _to_ her a lot,” Damon decided, naturally bringing the conversation around to sex.

“Perhaps you need to discuss that with the rabbi,” Stefan shot back.

“Do your homework,” Damon countered, standing to leave. “And don’t be late today.”

 

Somehow Damon managed to create chaos and stress even when he was doing something nice. Case in point—now as he drove to Elena’s to pick her up for school, Stefan was trying to decide which suit to wear, whether he would be able to get home and change in time without skipping his last class as Damon had advised, and most importantly, what he was going to say to Elena about all this. And he _still_ didn’t have his homework finished—which in the grand scheme of things he didn’t care about that much, it was just that he _could_ do it but _hadn’t_ due to his own self-indulgence, which frustrated him.

“Hi,” Elena greeted, hopping into the car. Sometimes he parked and came up to the door, but they were running a little behind today—which, given Stefan’s sense of time, was still ahead compared to most other people. She kissed him quickly. “Did you finish your calculus?”

“Almost,” he admitted, pulling away from the house with a friendly wave at Jenna on the porch. He would’ve been happy to give Jeremy a ride, too, but even Stefan’s version of late was too early for the teenager. Elena could tell from his hesitation there was something else. “This morning Damon—“

“Oh, G-d, what did he do now?” Elena asked in dread. “He hasn’t started chasing her again, has he?”

“Um, only for fun,” Stefan revealed, with slight dismay. “I don’t know if Shoshana mentioned this”—it was a long shot but he had to begin somewhere—“but did you know that she and Damon are married?”

“ _What_?!” He guessed she didn’t. “When did this happen?”

“Nineteen fifty-seven, actually,” Stefan admitted, glancing over at her. “They got married here in Mystic Falls at the old synagogue… they were very optimistic at the time,” he understated. “He thought maybe it would make things better, easier.”

“I guess it didn’t,” Elena surmised.

“She still left,” Stefan agreed. “We met up again in the ‘70’s, and then she left again. That was the last time we saw her before now.”

“Shoshana and Damon are _married_ ,” Elena repeated, as if trying to make it seem more real. “It’s not hard to picture her wanting to be married,” she decided. “But Damon? Wow.” She seemed to be having trouble wrapping her mind around it and Stefan smiled.

“I know. I said the same thing to him just this morning,” he admitted. “But I didn’t know how—seriously they were taking it this time, or if they wanted anyone to know.”

“They’ve been married over fifty years,” Elena marveled.

“Well, but not _together_ nearly that long,” Stefan qualified.

Suddenly Elena turned to him. “Caroline!”

“What about her?” Stefan asked in confusion.

“I _know_ he slept with Caroline,” Elena clarified. “So doesn’t that mean he was…?” Of course, given all the other crimes against humanity Damon had committed, cheating on his wife shouldn’t be a surprise.

Stefan shook his head, though. “I really don’t think either of them would count that, since they hadn’t seen each other in years,” he decided. As far as he knew, Damon had never been unfaithful to Shoshana, but there were so many qualifiers on that statement—giving permission beforehand for your spouse to have sex with someone else, for example—that he didn’t feel comfortable getting into it right now. Besides, he still hadn’t made his most important announcement yet, and they were already pulling into the parking lot at school.

“The reason I bring this up,” he went on, a bit hurriedly, “is because they’re having a ceremony today at the synagogue to bless the new wedding rings Damon bought. And we’re invited.” Elena’s eyes widened. “It’s at three-thirty and I’ll have to go home and change first, so I might need to skip French.” Which was okay intellectually because he already _spoke_ French and actually found it a challenge to display the lower level of knowledge appropriate to the class.

“A ceremony? Blessing the rings?” Elena repeated faintly.

“Well, they don’t need to get married again, since they never got a divorce or anything,” Stefan tried to clarify as they left the car. “Shoshana likes to have some kind of religious reaffirmation, though. So they’re having the rings blessed and afterward, he says, they’re going to tell people they’re married.”

“Wow,” Elena said again.

“So do you want to come?” he asked her again, in case she’d missed that part.

“Oh, yes, of course,” she agreed quickly. But now, of course, Damon’s chaos had transferred to _her_. “Shoshana dresses very conservatively when she goes to the synagogue…” She glanced down at her dress, which was flirty and stylish and summery but _not_ very conservative. “I’ll have to go home and change—I may have to skip French, too,” she agreed.

 

Later that day the four of them slid into a booth at the Grill for an early dinner, their clothes more than a little nicer than the usual for the restaurant’s patrons. Shoshana was in a good mood, which meant she hardly stopped talking—and Damon must’ve been in a good mood, too, because he didn’t seem to mind.

Shoshana stretched her hand across the table so Elena could admire her engagement and wedding rings again. “Aren’t they pretty?” she gushed. “And _so_ sparkly.”

“Oh yes, they’re beautiful,” Elena assured her once more. “I’m so happy for you!” She glanced at Damon, intending to include him in the congratulations, but he was looking around the room and not really paying attention to them.

“But I’m so—“ Shoshana began, then was cut off as Damon grabbed her hand and started to scoot back out of the booth.

“Come on, there’s someone I want you to meet,” he claimed, which struck Stefan and Elena as odd since they didn’t see anyone _they_ knew around. “Order for us,” Damon added over his shoulder. He pulled Shoshana over to the bar and sat down on a stool, balancing her against his leg. “Shoshana, this is Bill the bartender,” he introduced. “Bill, this is Shoshana, my wife.” She beamed at the term.

As a bartender Bill had seen and heard a lot of strange things; this one merited a raised eyebrow. “Pleased to meet you,” he said politely. “How long have you two been married?”

“Longer than you’d think,” Damon understated. “But we have recently reconciled and she moved in to the house.”

“Well, congratulations,” Bill told them with his usual low-key expression. He started to reach for Damon’s favorite scotch. “Have a drink on the house.”

“Why Bill, you know I never drink alcohol,” Damon said pointedly, gesturing towards Shoshana with his eyebrows.

“Of course, my mistake,” Bill corrected smoothly. He didn’t really care what games people played with their personal lives. “Maybe the lady would like a non-alcoholic strawberry daiquiri?”

“Oh, that sounds yummy, thank you,” Shoshana told him pleasantly.

“And for you?” Bill asked of Damon, since he apparently wasn’t taking his usual order.

“Just a Coke,” Damon answered. “Put a little diet in it,” he added, looking significantly at the whiskey stash.

“One Coke with a little diet,” Bill agreed dryly.

“Turn around and look at the rest of the room,” Damon suggested to Shoshana, so her back was to the bar as Bill poured a shot of Jack Daniels into Damon’s Coke. “Doesn’t it look totally different from over here?”

“Um, well…” Shoshana replied uncertainly.

“Well, I think it does,” Damon claimed, turning them back to the bar where his drink was waiting. “Thanks. Now Bill’s number is in your cell phone,” he told Shoshana, “and if you need anything you can call him. Isn’t that right?” Damon gave the man an intense stare that fixed him in place.

“Yes, of course,” Bill agreed, in a slightly mechanical tone.

Damon blinked, breaking the spell. “Great! Thanks for the drinks.” He picked Shoshana’s up from the bar and nudged her to stand.

“It was nice to meet you, Bill,” she told him as Damon herded her back to the table they shared with Stefan and Elena. “Did you just compel him?” she added to Damon in a whisper.

“Maybe a little,” he shrugged without concern. He set their drinks down on the table and indicated Shoshana should scoot in first.

“I didn’t realize you were such good friends with the bartender,” Stefan said carefully, not knowing what, if anything, Damon was up to.

“Where did you meet him?” Shoshana wanted to know, sipping her frozen pink drink. She pushed it across the table to offer some to Elena.

“Well, here,” Damon explained. “I like to sit at the bar and have a coffee if I’m alone.” If Stefan or Elena thought his claim of drinking only coffee at the bar was a bit ludicrous they tried not to show it; it was hard to tell how much of it Shoshana was buying, anyway. Damon merely sipped his Coke innocently.

“Oh, anyway, I wanted to say I’m so sorry for neglecting you lately, Elena,” Shoshana told the other girl, reaching across the table to hold her hand.

“That’s okay, really,” Elena insisted, slightly taken aback. “You’ve been, er, busy.” Elena flushed a little and Damon smirked behind his drink.

Shoshana didn’t seem discomfited, however. “We should have a girls’ weekend, just the two of us,” she decided. “Hmm, maybe we could even _go_ somewhere…?” She looked hopefully at Damon.

Clearly the idea of Shoshana and Elena going away together for the weekend was immensely appealing to him, but he had to bow to practical considerations. “Ooh… no,” he finally decided, painfully.

“Well, we can stay at home and do something fun,” Shoshana went on, shrugging off her disappointment. “And I want to do something with Bonnie and Caroline, too! Maybe another sleepover.”

“I think we should get a pool,” Damon said, apparently out of nowhere, though Stefan suspected it was related to girls somehow. “And a hot tub.” Yes, there it was.

“Really,” Stefan commented dryly.

“Yes,” Damon decided more firmly. “Instead of getting the patio fixed again, let’s rip it out and install a pool in one of those four-season sunrooms. You like to swim, I like to swim…”

“I like to swim,” Shoshana agreed. “Do _you_ like to swim, Elena? We could have pool parties!”

“You make this way too easy for him,” Stefan chided her fondly, seeing Damon’s smirk.

“What? A pool would be a good investment,” Damon claimed. “We can build a patio somewhere else, like where there’s _shade_. Then maybe we’d use it more.”

“How long have you been thinking about this?” Stefan asked him curiously.

“How long have we been talking about it?” Damon replied and Stefan rolled his eyes.

“Let’s think it over more,” he suggested, knowing Damon would be inclined to put his impulse into action right away.

“Don’t think too long,” Damon warned as the waitress arrived with their food. “Summer’s coming and we need to start hosting our barbecues and pool parties.”

“Oh, I love barbecues,” Shoshana decided. Right now it was hard to think of something she _didn’t_ love; she could already picture herself dishing up the fruit salad while Damon worked the grill, her friends sitting around chatting in the sunshine, random bubbles of laughter floating through the air. In the back of her mind she knew things could turn dark and ugly, like they had before; she hadn’t forgotten that, she didn’t claim it could never happen again. But right now all she could think of were all the good things, the things she loved most about living with Damon and Stefan. When she was alone, even if she’d found a nice family to take her in, things were so different—she was a child who did what she was told, who tried to blend in and make herself useful, who kept to herself more, didn’t form close friendships because there was so much she couldn’t share. But with Damon she could make decisions about things, could have them the way she wanted—okay, _some_ things, like a dinner, a party, decorating, shopping. And her friends—it was even better this time, with Elena and Bonnie and Caroline and everyone else she’d met so far. She wouldn’t ever be lonely with them around. Even though there was so much she still couldn’t tell to the average person on the street—she felt like she wasn’t hiding anymore, like she was really alive again.

“…I got you the vegetarian lasagna, I hope that’s okay,” Stefan was saying to her.

Shoshana wrapped her arms around Damon suddenly, squeezing him tight. “I love vegetarian lasagna,” she sighed in contentment.

Damon’s lips brushed her hair and he smiled down at her, the kind of smile that didn’t care about anyone around them, that was just for her. Elena actually stopped eating when she saw it, then glanced away quickly, feeling like she was somehow intruding by looking at them. Stefan nudged her a little and when she looked up at him he was smiling at _her_ , warm and intimate, like she was the only girl in the—

“Are we interrupting?”

“Yes,” Damon answered immediately, then looked up to see Jenna standing there, her eyes fixed on Stefan and Elena. “Actually, it’s a good thing you came along,” he decided, as the other two started and quickly brought themselves back to the real world. “Elena was just about to get pregnant over there. And get a tattoo with Stefan’s name in it.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Jenna replied sassily, as Elena and Stefan quickly scooted over to make room for her. Damon did _not_ scoot over to make room for her companion, Ric, which was okay because Ric didn’t want to sit that close to Damon anyway and dragged over a chair instead.

“Well, you boys are all dressed up,” Jenna observed, as Stefan flagged down the waitress to take the new orders.

“We’re celebrating,” Damon told her. “Not guilty on all counts. My treat.”

“Look at my rings!” Shoshana insisted, holding her hand out to Jenna.

The older woman’s eyes popped satisfyingly. “Oh my G-d, is that a wedding ring? Did you get _married_?”

“We’ve _been_ married, but we got the rings blessed today,” Shoshana corrected blithely. In case anyone wasn’t sure who she was talking about, she leaned up and kissed Damon’s cheek. His expression was infuriatingly smug.

“Isn’t that wonderful?” Elena prompted her aunt.

“Congratulations,” Ric offered, reluctant but sincere. Clearly, he wasn’t sure if Damon made an appropriate spouse for anyone.

“Aw thanks,” Damon replied, realizing this.

Jenna was still slightly gobsmacked. “But _when_ did you get married? How long has it been?”

“Oh, a while, but we’ve been going through a rough patch,” Shoshana answered, frank but also vague. “But I’ve been going to counseling with Rabbi Herschel and we’re back on track.”

“ _You’ve_ been going to marriage counseling?” Ric asked of Damon, in a tone of unrestrained disbelief.

“I find Stefan and Elena to be a great source of relationship advice,” Damon corrected. “Very insightful and mature.” Jenna paused to consider this and Damon’s look clearly said _You owe me one_ to his brother.

“Uh, so, how’s work going?” Stefan asked Jenna, trying to redirect the conversation. Elena had a feeling she was going to be interrogated about this whole thing later.

 

“Well, do _you_ want to push the cart?”

“Do you _need_ me to push the cart? Is it that heavy?”

“It would _help_ if you pushed the cart. Otherwise I’m not seeing your purpose here.”

“Oh, you’ll see my purpose when we get to the cash register.”

“I have my own credit card. I can pay for it.”

“Er, I meant when it came to lifting all the bags.”

“They’ll put it in the car for me here.”

“Aha! But who’s going to _drive_ the car?”

“I can drive.”

“Not legally, you can’t. Your license is Canadian.”

“A Canadian drivers’ license is valid in the US.”

“Um… no it’s not. It really isn’t. Don’t give me that look.”

“I think it is. But you said you were going to fix that, anyway!”

“Well, I will. What are you—Wait, wasn’t I just here a few days ago? Didn’t I get a box of that?”

“I ate it already. I think food boxes are getting smaller.”

“Maybe we should drive to Neoga and shop at the Costco.”

“Oh, I would love to go to Neoga! I wonder if that little Italian rest—“

“Forget it. _I_ could go to Neoga, but not you.”

“When is _that_ restriction going to end?”

“When I feel confident that you won’t attract _undesirables_.”

“So… never, then? Can you reach one of those for me? Two, actually. Thank you.”

“Seriously, there _will_ be other grocery trips.”

“Well with you I never know. Anyway, you _know_ I have to eat a lot!”

“No, I know.”

“I could eat less, but then I’d be too tired to fulfill my _wifely duties_.”

“Let’s get three of these. They won’t go bad.”

At this point Liz Forbes realized the couple she’d been eavesdropping on had reached the end of the aisle and she turned her cart to meet them, curious about who she would find. One voice she knew was Damon Salvatore’s, but the other person who appeared beside the cart was a stranger to her. The pair seemed oddly-matched to Liz’s trained eye.

“Hey, Liz,” Damon greeted easily. “Off-duty, huh?”

This simple acknowledgement that she was wearing regular clothes instead of her uniform was somehow laden with significance she didn’t understand, like many of his other comments—one reason Liz didn’t completely trust Damon. But vampire-killers weren’t exactly a dime a dozen, so she put up with it. “Damon,” she replied in her usual solemn way. She nodded towards the young woman beside him. “Who’s this?”

Damon liked that Liz was direct. It was a refreshing change from the tactful people he was supposed to dance around. “Glad you asked. This is my wife, Shoshana.”

Liz’s eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed suspiciously. Damon had a feeling their records would be checked as soon as she left the store, which only proved he’d been right to set them up properly in advance. “I didn’t know you were married,” she finally said. Hadn’t she seen him making out with Kelly Donovan at the bar only a few weeks ago?

“Well, we had some problems,” Damon revealed lightly, “but I took her back.” Literally.

Shoshana rolled her eyes slightly at the description. “So nice to meet you,” she said pleasantly, holding out her hand for the other woman to shake.

“This is Liz Forbes, she’s the Sheriff,” Damon explained. “She’s in your phone.”

“Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” Liz returned. “Your husband’s a great asset to the community,” she added, because he _was_ , but it was also a test of the girl’s knowledge of the situation here.

Damon tried and failed to look modest at the compliment. “That’s shocking,” Shoshana teased lightly.

“Hey, I help the Sheriff fight aliens and zombies and stuff,” he claimed indignantly.

“Oh, you’re so good at that in your video games,” she assured him affectionately, and he grinned at her as Liz watched them with interest, surmising that this Mrs. Salvatore was largely in the dark on certain matters.

“And,” Damon went on to Shoshana, “Liz is also Caroline’s mother.”

Shoshana’s eyes lit up. “Oh, I _love_ Caroline!” she said excitedly, taking a step forward unexpectedly. Liz tensed defensively and Shoshana froze in place with an uncertain expression on her face.

“Liz’s not really a hugger,” Damon explained dryly. “Shoshana’s very touchy-feely,” he added to the Sheriff. “Like a barnacle.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Shoshana told her sincerely as Liz squirmed a bit. “Caroline is one of my very best new friends in town, she’s _so_ sweet and so much fun and so clever.”

“Are you thinking of the right person?” Damon asked her in confusion. “Sorry,” he tossed off to Liz, but from her expression he suspected she was thinking the same thing.

“Well, that’s, um, very nice of you to say,” Liz finally answered, wondering what she had missed lately.

“She’s so talented at shopping!” Shoshana went on, and now the other two understood where the ‘clever’ assessment came from. “And she’s very good at doing hair and make-up. Very artistic.”

“They had a little sleepover a while ago,” Damon explained. He expected Liz didn’t realize that; he got the impression Caroline didn’t talk to her mother very much. Which was just as well, because otherwise the Sheriff would realize he’d dated her daughter and not treated her very well.

But on to more important matters. “Anything interesting happening with the Council?” he asked seriously. “Sorry I’ve missed lately, I’ve been reconciling with the missus.”

“What council are you on?” Shoshana asked with interest, confirming Liz’s suspicion. “Is it an arts council?”

“No,” he told her shortly, as though that were utterly ridiculous. “Go down to that display and pick out some stuff,” he added, sending her off. “But stay where I can see you.”

Shoshana gave him a look of annoyance but maneuvered the cart to do what she was told. “It was so nice to meet you, Sheriff Forbes.”

“You, too,” Liz assured her, watching her leave. She turned back to Damon once the woman was out of earshot. “She doesn’t know?” she checked in a low voice.

“Please,” Damon scoffed. “I’ve been trying to win her back. _That_ is not exactly conducive to convincing her I’m sane and sober.”

Liz nodded slowly, filing away the information that Damon _might_ have admitted to having a drinking problem—she’d certainly seen him at the bar enough times. “Things have been quiet lately,” she finally told him. “A few people turning up in local emergency rooms with bite marks and no memory of how they got them, but no dead bodies. If there are attacks on animals they’re hiding the evidence.”

Damon gave her a pensive look. Biting people without implanting a plausible story for the marks was sloppy… but new vampires wouldn’t have the control to just taste and release, so perhaps Pearl and Katherine were merely reminding people they hadn’t vanished entirely. Or perhaps the real action was happening elsewhere. “Have you looked into transient populations?” Damon asked her knowledgeably. “Homeless people, petty criminals, prostitutes. Do we _have_ prostitutes in Mystic Falls? Well, aside from Jenny.” Damon was pretty certain the fortyish woman he often saw at the Grill’s bar was _not_ going home with all those different men just because she was really friendly. “People you wouldn’t necessarily notice were missing right away.” That was who _he_ liked to go after, when he was eating humans and trying to be discreet about it.

“I haven’t heard anything, but I’ll check into it,” Liz decided. “I can ask Rhoda at the homeless—“

Damon was dialing on his cell phone. “Hold on a second. Get back where I can see you,” he ordered into the phone, “or I will come after you.” Liz turned to see Shoshana drift back out of an aisle, glaring, and Damon snapped his phone shut. “You were saying?”

“How old is your wife?” Liz asked curiously. Of course, it was not mere curiosity that fueled the question.

“Older than she looks,” Damon tossed off without concern. “You can talk to Rabbi Herschel about her, we go to synagogue every week.” He offered the information as matter-of-factly as Liz had questioned him—the woman had a suspicious mind, he knew, and nothing set off her alarms more than concealment, even of things that weren’t necessarily her business.

“You’re Jewish?” she asked in confusion.

“No. _She_ is.” Duh. “I just play along.” And since Liz wasn’t going to admit to eavesdropping on them—“She’s been in Canada for the last few years. Vancouver.”

“But you didn’t get a divorce?” Liz checked. Clearly the conversation was moving into that grey area between ‘nosy’ and ‘interrogatory’ that she sometimes favored, but Damon wasn’t offended.

“Nah, I knew she’d come back,” Damon claimed with a cheeky grin. “Who could resist me? See you later, Liz,” he added, starting to saunter off towards his wife. “I’ll be at the next meeting.”

Once she thought he was out of earshot, Liz pulled out her own phone and called the office, asking her deputy to look for information about Shoshana Salvatore. Behind her, still well within earshot, Damon grinned, knowing the search wouldn’t turn up anything interesting but _would_ satisfy Liz’s investigative itch.


	14. Chapter 14

_I’m just going to go for it_ , Stefan thought with determination, and he headed up the stairs.

The door to Shoshana’s room was wide open and she and Damon were sitting on the couch, perfectly innocent and fully clothed, reading. Damon was turning the pages much faster than Shoshana was; since he and Stefan had perfect recall now, they usually memorized the contents of books thoughtlessly and then went over them in their minds later, like when they were waiting in line or lying in bed next to someone who needed to sleep. Unfortunately this method had led Stefan at least to stay away from humorous literature, because laughing in the middle of a bank line for no discernible reason was a little awkward.

“Am I interrupting?” he asked politely.

“No,” Damon replied, snapping his book shut and setting it atop a pile beside him. They’d read almost all the books in their library at this point, not having discovered a limit to how much they could remember. Though as Damon liked to point out, when they hit a particularly poor book, there was no hope it could eventually fade from their memories. He gave his brother a long look up and down, then stood and scooped up the pile of books. “I was just going to put these back downstairs,” he announced. “Then I think I’ll watch some TV. _Golden Girls_ is on soon.” Well, they couldn’t work on intellectual stimulation _all_ the time, after all.

“You want to read in here with me, Stefan?” Shoshana offered hopefully. “It’s nicer with someone else. Only shut the door so I can’t hear the TV, it’s distracting.”

Damon smirked as he passed Stefan. “Oh, I don’t think he’s here to read,” he noted, with less smugness than Stefan had steeled himself for. “He looks a little _hungry_ to me.”

Shoshana put her book down and turned to look at him in surprise, and Stefan suddenly felt intensely self-conscious, almost to the point of scrapping the whole idea. Damon blocked his path back out the door, though, probably on purpose.

“Er, if that’s okay,” he hedged. “If not I can—“

“Of _course_ it’s okay,” Shoshana insisted. “Come over here.”

“One thing,” Damon said, grabbing Stefan’s arm to stop him. “If you end up having sex with her I get to have sex with Elena, okay?”

“Stop that!” Shoshana admonished him. “Don’t be so rude.”

“I’m not going to—“ Stefan started to sputter.

“I just want it understood,” Damon explained innocently.

“Go away,” Shoshana insisted. “Don’t make him feel bad.”

“What’s to feel bad about?” Damon shrugged. “Sharing is a virtue.”

“Go,” Shoshana repeated, waving her hand as if to shoo him away. Stefan just stood there looking embarrassed.

“Okay, I’ll be downstairs,” Damon reminded them. He left and shut the door behind him.

“Come on, Stefan, it’s okay,” Shoshana coaxed, when he remained rooted in place second- (third-, fourth-) guessing himself.

“If you’re not comfortable with it—“ he hesitated.

“I’m comfortable,” she reiterated.

Slowly Stefan walked over to the couch and sat down beside her. He felt almost like he _was_ planning to have sex with her, which would have been quite awkward in spite of (or because of) the permissions obtained from everyone else. Shoshana putting her arms around him in a hug didn’t really help the situation.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” he checked once more.

She smiled at him and leaned her head on his shoulder companionably. “Yes. I want to help you.” He didn’t seem convinced. “You and Damon spend so much time looking after me. I want to do something useful in return,” she elaborated. He started to protest that she didn’t _need_ to do anything useful and she shushed him. “I can’t cook for you, you don’t need your clothes made, I can’t even really fight bad vampires. But I can do _something_ to make you stronger against them. That’s what I want to do,” she concluded.

Stefan smiled a little and squeezed her hand gently. “You know we would love you even if you couldn’t do anything like that.”

“Maybe,” she allowed, “but then you probably wouldn’t even _know_ me.” She didn’t seem bothered by this possibility, however. She straightened up, taking a businesslike attitude that he appreciated. “Is wrist all right for you? It’s less messy than neck.”

“That’s fine,” he agreed quickly, not wanting to spend too long in contemplation of it. “Just—let me know if it’s too much.” She held her wrist up before his face and he took it carefully in both hands, bringing it to his lips. It had been a while since he’d bitten a human—though not as long as it should have been, he reflected with sudden darkness, thinking of his fall from the wagon after the incident at Pearl’s house. This would prevent any further episodes like that—both because he’d be strong enough to fight off attackers, and because drinking Shoshana’s blood would prevent him from craving the taste of humans—a temptation he still battled every day, no matter how well he managed to hide it.

Stefan realized he’d been staring at the delicately pulsing blue veins under her pale skin for a long moment, her warm fingers stroking the back of his head encouragingly. Finally he went for it before he could change his mind. His fangs popped and he bit down, piercing the thin flesh, then he pulled his teeth out to catch the flow of blood in his mouth.

It was like… molten chocolate flowing down his throat, sweet and hot and rich, the kind of concentrated deliciousness that chocolate ads evoked but could never follow through on in real life. As a child Stefan _loved_ chocolate, so much rarer back in those days—it was a cruel irony that once he was in a position to obtain all the chocolate he wanted, from anywhere in the world, it no longer held any appeal to him, taste-wise anyway. But this was liquid fudge, with every molecule of cocoa dancing across his tongue, every drop of milk, every crystal of sugar, evoking something at once exotic and cozy.

Of course, her blood didn’t taste like chocolate at all. But those were the feelings provoked by the sublime flavor, the heady rush through his body of whatever power transferred from her system to his.

After a while the need became less urgent and Stefan blearily opened his eyes, not aware he’d closed them. He could eat more. Much more. But he was feeling a bit satisfied and could appreciate his surroundings again, and he didn’t want to take too much. Stefan pulled his mouth away, cupping his hand to prevent drips, and watched the holes in her skin heal shut before his eyes. He licked the remaining blood from her wrist and his own hand, hoping he didn’t appear gauche—he’d seen Elena do the same with hot fudge syrup.

He glanced over at Shoshana, her head leaning on his shoulder and her eyes closed. He couldn’t permanently injure her by feeding, but he didn’t want to inconvenience her. “Shoshana? Are you okay?”

Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled a little at him. “Sure, I’m fine. How do you feel?”

Stefan blinked, trying to assess it. “Kind of light-headed,” he decided.

“Me, too!” Shoshana agreed. For some reason they both found this inordinately funny and began to giggle.

Damon popped through the door as though he’d been listening for this. “I guess _you’re_ done,” he observed dryly. “As good as you remembered?”

He reached down questioningly, offering to help his brother up, and Stefan waved him off. “No, I’m fine—“ A light tap on Damon’s arm inexplicably sent him tumbling backwards into the bookshelves, scattering paperbacks everywhere. Stefan stared down at his own hand in shock—then he and Shoshana burst out laughing again.

“Amateurs,” Damon muttered, picking himself back up. “Come on, Hercules, let’s go outside and work off some of that excess energy.” He grabbed Stefan’s wrists to prevent him from doing any further damage with his newfound strength and pulled him off the couch. “You okay?” he asked of Shoshana, who curled up in the spot Stefan had vacated.

“Mm-hmm,” she replied sleepily. “I’m just gonna take a nap.”

“Okay. This way, Jumbo.”

“I _can_ walk,” Stefan insisted mildly, as Damon manhandled him out the door.

“Yeah, okay, go ahead,” Damon allowed skeptically, releasing his brother in the hallway. Stefan took a few tentative steps, then wobbled dizzily, tripped, and rolled down the staircase. He bounced off the landing wall and rolled down the second staircase, landing in a heap on the floor.

“Ha-ha!” Damon mocked, following him in a more dignified fashion. “You looked just like Sonic the Hedgehog.”

“That was kind of… fun,” Stefan decided as he stood up, unharmed. “That’s not right, is it?” he worried with a frown.

“This is what you get for mainlining high-grade Shoshana instead of working up to it,” Damon chided. “Let’s go play football in the backyard.”

“It’s raining,” Stefan protested as they headed for the back door.

“What’s wrong, prissy boy, afraid to get a little dirty?” Damon taunted. He picked up a football that had been left beside the door and tossed it back and forth between his hands temptingly. “Let’s see what you got. If that’s anything at all.” Stefan narrowed his eyes in determination and swiped the ball from Damon with dizzying speed, dashing out into the muddy yard. Fortunately Damon managed to get the door open in time or Stefan would’ve smashed right through it.

 

An hour later they staggered back into the house, covered in mud from head to toe. Although Damon clearly had a better handle on his powers, Stefan was pleased to discover that for once, _he_ seemed to have greater brute strength, as evidenced by some tackles that would have broken bones in his human teammates. That thought gave him pause—of course he didn’t want to hurt anyone while playing for school, and he _already_ exercised a great deal of restraint on the field.

But it wasn’t football season. And knocking the smug grin off his brother’s face just felt too good.

“Okay, so if you throw it like this, but you add the spin—“ Damon was trying to advise him.

“No, McMorter tried that in ’75 against Penn State, don’t you remember—“

“No, because I don’t obsessively watch every football game known to man, you need a hobby—“

“Sports _is_ a hobby—“ Stefan claimed indignantly.

“ _What are you doing_?!” Shoshana demanded, turning from the stove to stare at them in horror.

The boys froze in place, then looked down at their muddy clothes and the trail of grime they were leaving behind them. “S—t,” swore Stefan unexpectedly, and Damon laughed.

“I like this mellow vibe on you, it’s much more fun than your usual stick-up-the-a-s routine,” he complimented.

Stefan was paying more attention to Shoshana’s wild eyes, though. “Back! Back! Get back in the laundry room!” she ordered, shooing them away like dirty pet dogs.

“J---s, it’s only mud,” Damon complained. “It’s not radioactive or anything.”

“We’ll clean it up,” Stefan promised quickly.

“No, we won’t, that’s what we have a cleaning service for,” Damon countered.

Shoshana ignored that and looked them over critically, then plugged the drain on the work sink and started to fill it with soap and water. “Put your clothes in here,” she told them. “I’ll soak them for a while. They’re too dirty for the washing machine.”

“Let’s just throw them away,” Damon suggested, as he and Stefan pulled off their filthy t‑shirts. “We don’t need to wash them.”

“There’s no need to be _profligate_ ,” Shoshana chastised primly. “Put your shoes up here, I’ll see what I can do with them.”

“Sorry,” Stefan told her sheepishly, setting his muddy sneakers on the counter. Damon scoffed at his capitulation.

Her expression softened. “Well, I’m glad you had a good time,” she assured them. “You’re just _shockingly_ dirty, that’s all.”

“Shouldn’t surprise you,” Damon teased.

“I’ll go get you some clean clothes,” she decided, darting away from his muddy hands.

Stefan carefully poked his dirty clothes into the sink to soak, while Damon flung his clothes at his brother, to be carefully poked into the sink to soak. “Are you seriously not wearing underwear?” Stefan asked him, rolling his eyes.

Damon was not a bit chagrined to stand there completely naked, except for the socks he was currently removing. “Cramps my style,” he claimed.

Stefan wet a washcloth and began assiduously cleaning his face and arms. “In what way?” he asked tolerantly.

“I might want a quickie in the closet or something,” Damon shrugged, hopping up to sit on the washer. “Those little boxer-briefs”—he pointed to what Stefan was left wearing—“are just one more thing to get in my way.”

“I’ve not found that to be a problem myself,” Stefan informed him. “Maybe you’re doing something wrong.” He tossed the wet washcloth at Damon, allowing him to contemplate the idea of a quickie in a closet with _Elena_.

“Um, hmm,” Damon replied distractedly, wiping his face. “Sorry, what were we talking about?”

“Proper attire in the modern age,” Stefan reminded him, leaning casually against the wall. “You know, they make underwear out of cotton, even silk now,” he went on patronizingly. “None of that scratchy wool we used to have. In case you were worried about chafing delicate parts.”

“Hmm, could’ve used that a few weeks ago,” Damon decided, grimacing as he remembered a certain painful incident involving delicate parts. “Jeans are really not—“ They both heard the sound of a car in the driveway and shortly thereafter, the front door opening. “Were you expecting anyone?” Damon asked his brother curiously.

“No, I—“

“Stefan!” called Elena. “Are you home?”

Oddly, Stefan did not relax. “Elena,” he noted with unusual interest.

“Smells like Shoshana is making dinner already,” said a second voice—Bonnie’s.

This was when Stefan noticed the laundry room had no door.

“What are you worried about?” Damon scoffed as his brother became considerably more agitated. “It’s only our girlfriend.”

“You don’t _need_ a girlfriend, you have a _wife_!” Stefan hissed at him, looking around for something else to put on. “And she’s not alone!”

“I have a lot of love to give,” Damon deadpanned, not shifting in his seat on the washer. He smirked as he realized why his brother was suddenly eager not to be seen by the girls. “Looks like you do, too. Maybe we shouldn’t have been talking about sex while you’re still in this volatile condition.”

“Shut up, please,” Stefan muttered, stacking some laundry baskets to hide behind. He tried to fill his mind with dull, calming thoughts like geometry proofs and state capital lists, hoping to get himself back under control before the girls found them.

“Sex, or sex in closets, or sex with Elena _in_ closets, or what kind of underwear Elena would wear while having sex in a closet—“ suggested Damon unhelpfully.

“Stefan, are you here?” Elena continued, walking into the kitchen. Clearly she found the muddy tracks. “What the—Stefan? Stefan?”

She sounded worried, so Stefan was forced to betray their location, though not without a glare at his brother. “We’re in here!” he announced. “But we’re not decent!”

“What?” Elena called in confusion, following his voice.

“You know Stefan _tries_ to be decent,” Damon added loudly. “He’s just a little _hard_ on himself.”

“Where is Shoshana?” Stefan asked futilely of Damon, who shrugged without concern. He raised his voice again. “We’re really not—“

Elena appeared in the doorway of the laundry room and looked Stefan over with bemusement—dirt smudges across his face and in his hair, apparently wearing little if any clothing, and trying and failing to hold a laundry basket in front of him casually. “What’s going on?” she asked.

Bonnie was on her heels. “Oh my G-d, are you _naked_?!” she blurted, staring at Damon lounging on the washer. Fortunately the angle was such that this was only an educated guess.

“Come over here and find out, little witch,” he offered with a smirk.

Elena put a hand up to shield herself from seeing Damon at all. “What are you two doing?” she asked of Stefan, who was crushing the laundry basket with his too-tight grip. “Stefan?”

His eyes snapped up to her face guiltily and she glanced down in confusion to see if she had food on her shirt or something like that. Damon cackled out of view. “Um, uh, we were playing football and we got kind of dir—uh, muddy,” Stefan rushed to explain. His eyes slid over to Bonnie, then jerked back to Elena. “Shoshana’s supposed to be bringing us clothes…”

“Football?” Bonnie repeated blankly, also trying not to let her eyes stray towards any naked flesh of men who were not her boyfriend.

“Well, as a setup for a porn movie, it’s a little more complicated than not having enough money to pay for the pizza,” Damon allowed. “Hey, now’s the part where you girls inexplicably have to strip down, too.”

“I’m sorry, he’s not housetrained,” Stefan told them, staring deliberately at Elena’s eyes. The lack of blinking was slightly unnerving to her. “Maybe you could go see what’s taking Shoshana?”

“Maybe you could just make a run for it,” Damon suggested to him innocently, “if you’re embarrassed about your Scooby-Doo underoos.” Naturally this comment drew both girls’ gazes directly towards the area behind the laundry basket, however inadvertently. Stefan sighed heavily and closed his eyes, trying to relax.

“Oh, hi, Elena!” Shoshana greeted and relief flooded through Stefan. Of course Elena had seen him in less than his underwear and, er, _interested_ , but Bonnie hadn’t, and this wasn’t exactly some kind of emergency where it was silly to worry about such things. And Damon being in the room also just made everything weirder. “Bonnie! I didn’t know you were coming!”

“They aren’t yet, but might be soon,” Damon cracked crudely as Stefan tried to reach the jeans Shoshana had draped over her arm. They dangled just out of reach, however, as she stopped to give each guest a big hug. “Five makes it an orgy for sure, don’t you think?” Damon asked Stefan conversationally.

Shoshana looked around the corner at him. “Did you forget to put on your underwear again this morning?” she asked him in a very emasculating tone. “Here, I brought you some of those silky boxer shorts that don’t rub too much.”

“Why, they have little racecars on them,” Stefan teased, feeling much better once he’d pulled on the new pair of jeans she handed him. At least being dressed seemed to clear his mind a little.

“I’m man enough to wear them,” Damon insisted, though he didn’t sound too happy about it. Elena and Bonnie quickly turned their backs just before he hopped off the washer and started to dress, though he feared their nervous giggling was more at his expense than he preferred.

“Bonnie, are you staying for dinner?” Shoshana asked eagerly. “I’m fixing some salmon. Do you like salmon?”

“I thought it was sausage night,” Damon deadpanned.

Shoshana gave him a dark look. “Didn’t you boys promise to clean up the mess in the kitchen?” she asked pointedly.

“That was only Stefan.”

“Yes, we did,” Stefan assured her, grabbing Damon’s shoulder. “Come on.”

“We can eat in the living room,” Shoshana told the girls. “Grab a plate!”

 

Stefan walked into the kitchen around 3AM and found Damon already there, assembling food on a plate from a wide variety of bags and containers spread out across the counter. “Mine wanted a sandwich,” he announced. “What does yours want?”

“A drink,” Stefan replied, taking a glass down from the cabinet.

“There’s water in the bathroom,” Damon pointed out as Stefan filled the glass from the faucet.

“She’s _in_ the bathroom,” Stefan countered.

Damon decided to give up on this line of conversation, finding it dull. “Do you want me and Shoshana to move out?” he asked casually.

Stefan turned to stare at his back. “No. Why would I want that?”

“Just curious.”

Now Stefan _glared_ at his back. Damon could be frustratingly indirect sometimes. He tried reversing the question. “Do you want _me_ to move out?”

Damon looked over his shoulder at him like he was an utter moron. “No. Why would I want that?”

“Maybe you and Shoshana want more privacy,” Stefan guessed.

Damon flung some sliced tomato onto the sandwich. “Please. Communal living is where it’s _at_. We should all live in the same _room_.” His eyes flickered over to Stefan momentarily. “Maybe you and Elena want more privacy.”

“Well, Elena doesn’t live here,” Stefan reminded him.

“She _practically_ does,” Damon corrected. “And someday she might officially.”

Stefan shook his head, leaning back against the sink with the water in his hand. “She’s too young to start thinking about that.” Although clearly, _he_ had.

“Get ‘em young, train ‘em up right,” Damon commented obnoxiously, squirting a generous amount of mustard onto the sandwich. “We could all four live here,” he suggested lightly. “Forever.”

“Logistical difficulties would preclude ‘forever,’” Stefan countered dryly.

“So we travel in between,” Damon shrugged. “That would be fun. I bet Elena’s never been anywhere. I bet she would love Europe. Brussels, Venice, Prague, Vienna…”

“She probably would,” Stefan agreed.

“She could go to college first,” Damon suggested. “Keep up appearances. We could get Bonnie to make her a daylight ring. Maybe a few practice ones first, since we need it to be _right_ ,” he added snidely.

Stefan delicately set the glass in his hand aside, before he crushed it. He was more angry at the idea itself than at Damon for mentioning it. “How can you suggest that? For her?” he asked evenly.

“Because I _like_ my existence,” Damon insisted. “And you would, too, if you stopped brooding so much. No sickness or injury, stronger than most people around you, able to see changes that most people can only dream of…”

“Watching everyone you care about die, being hated and feared, keeping your true nature a secret, hurting other people to survive…” Stefan listed instead, moving to lean against the counter Damon worked at so he could see him better.

“On three, you have a point,” Damon allowed. “Two won’t happen if you keep up with three. Four won’t happen if you stick with Shoshana.”

“What about one?”

“That was gonna happen anyway,” Damon reasoned after a moment. “Nonna and Nonno died, Mother died. Father would’ve died eventually.” Stefan looked away as he said this. “Then I would’ve gotten the farm and you would’ve gotten some cash, and we would’ve gotten married and had kids, and they’d grow up and we would die, and our bones would be moldering in graves under illegible tombstones right about now.”

“Wow, it’s like an Elton John song,” Stefan deadpanned.

“You expect the people older than you to die,” Damon pressed. “That is inescapable. I don’t know why you emo vampires always trot that one out. Were you all planning on committing suicide _before_ anyone you cared about could die, or what?”

Stefan didn’t say anything for a long moment and Damon glanced over at him, wondering if he’d kicked off a _mood_. Stefan straightened up when he saw Damon looking at him. “I was just trying to figure out who would’ve married _you_ ,” he claimed, as though he couldn’t imagine such a thing.

Damon grinned, unoffended. “Okay, this is really bad, but I think I would’ve gone for Lydia Dawes.”

“Lydia Dawes? Oh my G-d, no way,” Stefan insisted. “With that _laugh_? You would’ve smothered her with a pillow in the night.”

“Only once she wasn’t hot anymore,” he claimed rudely.

“So _that_ marriage would last, say, three years,” Stefan reasoned. “Maybe less. One pregnancy would ruin her figure for you.”

“G-d, do you remember how tiny her waist was?” Damon reminisced. “I could get my hands all the way around it.”

“Yeah, that’s called anorexia,” Stefan pointed out. “The girl didn’t _eat_. She’d pass out on you halfway through the wedding night.”

“You sound suspiciously well-informed about this,” Damon noted.

Stefan ignored that. “Anyway, you couldn’t have married Lydia Dawes, because she married Henry Watkins.”

“No, no, she only married Watkins because he was going off to fight,” Damon pointed out. “You have to discount the War. The War messes up the whole alternate timeline.”

“So we’re not vampires, and there’s no Civil War?” Stefan checked. “What is this, a Turtledove novel?”

“Well, we’re working on my circle-of-life point, and a war messes that up because it kills young people instead of old,” Damon reminded him.

Stefan gazed at him quietly for a minute as Damon continued shuffling the sandwich fixings. “Why did you decide to join up?” he finally asked. It was a question he had often thought about but never pursued.

Damon shrugged and started to clean up his mess. “It was the thing to do,” he claimed, and Stefan rolled his eyes at the blow-off answer. This was the reason his past questions had never gotten very far. “Come one, you remember, everyone who could was joining the Army. Even the boys _your_ age were sneaking off to other regiments. You had to have a reason _not_ to, like… having only one leg, or being a Quaker.”

“You didn’t join up until ’62,” Stefan reminded him. “It’d been going on for over a year already.”

“Well, so sue me, I didn’t want to _die_ ,” Damon shot back. “Which is pretty ironic now, I admit. But at some point I just couldn’t take Father’s badgering anymore. Plus,” he added smugly, “I was holding out for the sharpshooters’ division. If I gotta go to war I want to be in the prestigious unit.”

Stefan somehow felt they weren’t getting down to the _real_ reasons, which shouldn’t surprise him. “You never talked much about what it was like in the Army,” he mentioned neutrally.

“Go watch Ken Burns,” Damon replied shortly.

“You had nightmares when you came home on leave.”

Damon looked at him sharply. “I never did,” he countered, as if the notion were ridiculous.

“You did. We slept in the same bed,” Stefan reminded him.

“ _That’s_ what will mess a person up right there,” Damon claimed, avoiding the subject. “Two grown men forced to share a bed in a house full of bedrooms, because Father was too cheap to heat any other rooms.”

“You’re the one who said we should all live in the same room,” Stefan remarked innocently.

“Stop remembering what I said,” Damon decided, rinsing his hands at the sink. He threw a dishtowel at his brother.

“Well, I didn’t mind, I missed you,” Stefan admitted.

“I think you would have married that little blond,” Damon said, skipping back to an earlier topic. “What was her name? Molly Pickering.”

“ _Pickerling_ ,” Stefan corrected. “I don’t know, we were really young. I was only fifteen—“

“But you were so cute together,” Damon insisted. “She’d make that stupid little face, and you’d make that stupid little smile—yeah, kinda like that one,” he claimed. “That’s enough to get you by when you might only live to fifty.”

Stefan grinned but shook his head. “No, no, that wasn’t going to last.” A thought suddenly occurred to him. “You left after I started seeing her.” Damon’s gaze shifted away. “Did you—were you waiting for me to meet somebody, before you left?”

Damon turned around to wash his hands again, despite having just done so. “No. I was jealous of her. Didn’t seem like I was needed anymore.” He tried to say it sarcastically, like he was mad about being cast aside in favor of a girl, but Stefan suspected otherwise. “And then you completely failed me,” Damon went on, turning back around with the cockiness firmly in place. “I thought I’d come home on leave the first time and you’d be engaged, and then the second time you’d be married, and then the third time, you’d tell me I was gonna be an uncle. Hopefully in that order.” Stefan raised an eyebrow at his brother’s oddly specific plan. “But instead you dumped the nice girl, started dressing like a banker, and picked up a vampire chick. You may even have drunk alcohol on occasion. Maybe _you_ were the one with mental issues.”

All of which, strangely enough, was Damon’s way of saying ‘I love you,’ so Stefan couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks for playing football with me today,” he replied.

“Whatever. Next time I won’t go so easy on you,” Damon warned, picking up the plate with Shoshana’s sandwich. “Don’t forget the water,” he called back over his shoulder, which Stefan was about to. “Don’t want anyone getting dehydrated.”


	15. Chapter 15

“The Lockwood Mansion hasn’t changed at all,” Shoshana marveled as they stepped out the back door of the large, ornate building onto the terrace. “It’s kind of comforting, but also creepy.”

“Like many things in your life, I’m sure,” Damon quipped at her side.

“ _I_ might like it,” she decided thoughtfully, “but it seems odd that normal humans would. It’d be kind of like living in a museum.”

“I’m not convinced the Lockwoods _are_ normal humans,” he responded, glancing around to locate the Mayor, his wife, and their son Tyler.

It was the kind of statement that might mean something interesting, or it might mean nothing at all. Either way it wasn’t the kind of thing Shoshana worried herself about. “It looks so beautiful out here,” she decided, gazing at the strings of lights hung from the house to the gazebo across the terrace. They were a little underwhelming at the moment as they competed with the setting sun, but she could imagine them in just a few minutes’ time, lighting up the twilight behind the mansion. “Maybe we could get a gazebo,” she suggested to Damon, looping her arm through his as they strolled aimlessly among the other partygoers.

“What would you do with a gazebo?” he asked skeptically, even as he filed the idea away in his mind as a future improvement.

“We could _sit_ in it,” she replied, as though this should be obvious. “In the cool of the evening. And rock back and forth in a swing.”

“Wow, that’d be thrilling for all of thirty seconds.”

Shoshana smiled a little, because she understood that his complaints didn’t mean he actually disliked something. “And in the winter we could decorate it with lights and greenery, and in the summer when we have barbecues people can eat under it.”

That was when _he_ smiled a little bit, too, because while summer wasn’t all that far away, winter _was_ , and to him her comments meant she imagined herself sticking around that long. “Did I tell you how beautiful you looked?” Damon checked. “I can’t remember.”

“You did,” Shoshana confirmed, but she didn’t mind hearing it again. “Oh, there’s Caroline!” she realized, gazing across the terrace. “Let’s go say hello. I feel like I haven’t seen her in ages!”

Damon grimaced. “ _You_ go say hello,” he countered, releasing her. “Ages aren’t long enough for me.”

Shoshana rolled her eyes a little but stretched up to kiss his cheek before departing. He didn’t mind the view as she left, either, though if he’d had his way the delicate peach dress she wore would fit even tighter, and it wouldn’t bother with those little ribbons dangling from the straps that were euphemistically called ‘sleeves.’ Of course, Shoshana wouldn’t _wear_ anything tighter or sleeveless in public. And the peach dress was quite nice.

The Sheriff’s approach actually startled him a little bit. Well, at least it was only his _own_ wife he’d been ogling this time. “Damon.”

“Liz. You look very… professional,” he noted. In other words her uniform stuck out in a sea of light suits and garden party dresses.

She glanced around with her typical suspicious expression, as if she expected someone to pull a gun at any moment—or pop some fangs. “Large gathering like this, you never know who might show up,” she replied.

Seeing Shoshana occupied with Caroline Damon snagged a glass of champagne from a waiter—Liz of course declined one. “I think I saw Jenny the town prostitute over by the fountain,” he offered unhelpfully, sipping the bubbly alcohol. It was practically like drinking water, but maybe Shoshana wouldn’t smell it on him.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you about something we decided at a Council meeting recently,” Liz went on, watching him closely as he drank the champagne. Damon hoped she wasn’t going to start being all judgy about it, even though _he_ had given her the idea he had alcohol problems in the first place.

“G-d, this is terrible,” he interrupted, nonetheless finishing off the glass. “Did we decide to appropriate the mayoral entertaining budget or something?”

“It’s funny you can taste it, no one else could,” Liz commented.

“Sensitive palate,” he claimed. “I might actually be allergic to cheap booze.”

“Actually it’s the same champagne as always,” Liz clarified. “We just spiked it with vervain.”

Damon stared at her blankly for a long moment. “You what?” he finally said.

“Well, most of the town comes to this thing,” Liz explained, “and we’re hoping maybe we can flush out some… people who don’t belong. So keep an eye out for anyone who has a bad reaction to the champagne.”

Inwardly, Damon was thinking, _I drank vervain and I’m fine_ in a shocked sort of tone. Outwardly, he said seriously, “That’s a clever idea. Though I wonder, has anyone ever looked into the effects of long-term consumption of vervain in humans?” _I am INVINCIBLE_.

Liz looked slightly startled. “What do you mean?”

“Well, don’t get me wrong, vervain’s a great weapon,” Damon went on, upending the glass to get the last few drops of liquid and not caring if Liz thought he was a raging alcoholic. “But it’s a complex herbal compound being used in concentrated doses. There are certainly a lot of other herbs that can have dramatic effects on humans. Maybe we should… fund a study at the university in Charlestown or something, just to be sure we’re not slowly poisoning people in order to quickly poison vampires.” _Invincible and brilliant!_

Liz seemed to agree with him, at least on the ‘brilliant’ part. “I _knew_ we should’ve run it by you first, you always think of an angle we’ve missed,” she told him. “I’ll mention it to the Mayor.”

“You do that,” Damon agreed, noticing Stefan and Elena in the crowd—carrying glasses of champagne. He started to pull away from Liz. “You need funding for a study, I know some people.” She nodded and went back to her rounds. Damon swooped into Stefan’s personal space with an arm around his shoulders and plucked the glass from his hand. “You shouldn’t be drinking, there’s police everywhere,” he chided in a smug tone, chugging the alcohol. “You, either,” he added to Elena, doing the same with hers.

Stefan gazed at him worriedly. “Are you drunk?” he asked suspiciously.

“On power,” Damon replied obnoxiously. He leaned close to murmur in Stefan’s ear. “They put vervain in the champagne. Did they learn that trick from you?” he teased, pulling back. Even a reminder of _that_ little episode couldn’t bring his mood down.

The expression on Stefan’s face was extremely satisfying. “What? But how—“

“Liz just told me,” Damon went on, his grin huge and smug. “Counterterrorism measures, you know.”

“But how can _you_ drink it?” Elena hissed, alarmed at how close Stefan had come to being sickened or even exposed.

“I’ve got the magic in me,” Damon sang, not quite discreetly enough for Stefan and Elena. “Everything I touch just turns into gold… Liz seems to think I’m a recovering alcoholic, by the way,” he added with amusement.

“Not so recovering,” Stefan muttered, still trying to parse his news.

“That’s good,” Damon encouraged. “Feel free to tell her how I’ve embarrassed you in the past.”

“Maybe they didn’t put _enough_ in,” Stefan speculated with a frown. “We should test—“

“Were you singing?” Shoshana wanted to know, sidling up to Damon.

“A little,” he admitted, taking her hand and spinning her around. “Have I told you how beautiful you look, my lovely wife?” Elena and Stefan glanced at each other with disbelief.

Shoshana seemed to feel the same way. “Are you drunk?” she accused.

“It’s for a good reason,” Stefan assured her quickly.

And since Stefan was saying it, she believed him. “Oh.”

“Three glasses of champagne does not constitute drunk,” Damon scoffed. He bowed to Shoshana with a flourish. “May I have this dance, milady?”

She smiled and accepted the offered hand, no longer concerned about his behavior. “Alright. But only the slow songs,” she warned.

“We shall go very, _very_ slow,” Damon vowed, whisking her away to the dance floor.

“Why didn’t the vervain bother him?” Elena asked of Stefan in a low voice as they both stared after Damon and Shoshana. “Or _did_ it?”

In Stefan’s estimation his brother was just… happy. Excited. _Maybe_ slightly tipsy, but that would burn off quickly. Even a tiny drop of concentrated vervain—such as the Council members produced from the plant material Damon gave them—should have been enough to leave him choking, struggling to stay conscious. So either the amount in the champagne was too dilute to be effective—or Shoshana’s blood was protecting him in yet another way. Stefan intended to find out which it was.

He took another glass of champagne casually from a waiter’s tray. “What are you doing?” Elena asked in alarm.

Stefan took her hand. “Come on. Let’s go… over here.” There was a little storage room just inside the back door of the mansion and they slipped into it, Stefan checking to make sure no cameras had been installed recently.

Elena was staring at the glass in his hand as though it were full of poison. Which really, it was, to Stefan anyway. “Do you think Damon was just… making it up?” she asked, her voice hopeful and yet not at the same time.

Stefan shook his head slowly, also eyeing the champagne warily. It was a good tactic on the Council’s part… though the Spring Fling might prove a bit _too_ memorable if the police actually spotted one of Pearl’s followers reacting to the vervain and staked them in the middle of Mrs. Lockwood’s rose garden. Maybe they were just planning to ID the suspected vampires and hunt them down later.

Stefan felt slightly sick at his stomach and he hadn’t even drunk anything yet.

He pulled out his phone, chose Damon’s number, and handed the phone to Elena. “I’m just going to take a sip and see what happens,” he explained to her. She nodded reluctantly. Trying not to tense up too much, Stefan raised the delicate glass to his lips, felt the bubbles tickle his nose, and tasted it.

His nose wrinkling slightly, he lowered the glass. “It tastes terrible,” he complained. “Bitter.” That was the only way he could think to describe it.

“But do you feel okay?” Elena pressed worriedly.

Well, now that he was scrutinizing every reaction it was harder to tell, but… “Yeah, I feel fine,” he decided. “It’s unusual that the bitterness is so strong to me,” he continued curiously. “Most human foods taste pretty bland now.” He was rather tempted to take another sip, just to be sure, but that seemed like pushing his luck.

“Maybe it’s just gone bad or something,” Elena suggested, though she wasn’t sure if champagne did that. “Why don’t—maybe _I_ should try it,” she decided.

He handed the glass over readily, not perceiving any unusual threat to her, and Elena took a tiny sip of her own. “It tastes like champagne to me,” she admitted. “It’s good, actually.”

“We should take some home and analyze it,” he decided. Back in his human days, helping people wasn’t the _only_ reason he’d wanted to become a doctor; he was fascinated by the physiological knowledge as well and had kept up with the field over the decades. These days one of the rooms in the basement of the boarding house held a mini-laboratory, suitable for examining samples of local plants and animals—and his work lately had been focused on the effects of vervain and on any other herbs that might counteract it.

Elena was digging through her tiny purse that matched her party dress. “I don’t think I’ve got anything to carry it in—“ she worried.

Slightly sheepish, Stefan pulled a Ziploc bag from his pocket and dumped the golden liquid in, sealing it carefully. “Well, you just never know,” he said to a bemused Elena, tucking the bag away. Suddenly he grinned. “Now I understand why Damon is in such a good mood,” he explained. “Imagine if you found out your crazy new diet protected you from cyanide poisoning.”

Elena raised an eyebrow. “I don’t like imagining that people around me are trying to poison me with cyanide,” she countered.

“I know.” Stefan pulled her close and kissed her, first gently, then more passionately. Then suddenly he pulled back, grimacing. “I’m sorry,” he said with embarrassment, “you just taste like—“

“I’ll brush my teeth as soon as we get home,” Elena promised. She was beginning to see his point, though—as much as Stefan worried about her human fragility, _she_ worried about _his_ vulnerabilities as well, especially since people like the Council were actively trying to exploit them. And anything that made him stronger—

Hmm, _now_ who did she sound like? It was a new world indeed when Damon seemed like the voice of reason.

Stefan took his phone back from her and snapped it shut, then offered her his arm. “Would you like to dance, milady?” he asked, imitating Damon.

She laughed a little bit, more from relief than anything else, and took his arm. “I would, sir!”

 

Twilight brought the electric lights and luminescent white flowers out across the expansive terrace—Damon had to credit Mrs. Lockwood for knowing how to hire a good landscaper. The DJ he wasn’t so impressed with—the songs were distinctly geared towards the aging baby boomers who made up much of the crowd, not to those with more progressive tastes. Who may or may not be considerably older than the aging baby boomers.

On the other hand, slow songs kept Shoshana swaying in his arms, and he couldn’t complain about _that_ , even if he had to fight the urge to spin her around or break into other moves that better reflected his mood. Admittedly, surviving a stake through the heart had probably been more dramatic at the time, but somehow it didn’t have the same impact on him emotionally—he hadn’t exactly been in a position to appreciate it, after all. But knowing he could evade the trap set by the Council, involving the one substance they thought they could utterly rely on to detect and incapacitate vampires? He was _jubilant_. But ‘jubilant’ wasn’t really the best look on him, so he tried to contain himself.

Finally a more modern song came up on the DJ’s playlist, though technically it was just a remake of a song from the 1970’s. _You sheltered me from harm_ , someone crooned. _You kept me warm, you kept me warm_.

“Thank you for letting me come to the party,” Shoshana told him sweetly, blinking up at him.

_You gave your life to me_

_You set me free, you set me free_

“You don’t have to—thank me for everything,” he replied, trying to put it nicely. “You don’t have to do everything I suggest, either.”

“I know, I just—“ She cleared her throat suddenly, trying not to be distracted by the song. “I just appreciate that you’re trying—“

_The finest years I ever knew_

_Were all the ones I spent with you_

“I’m not trying _too_ hard,” he corrected, attempting to lighten the mood. Now he _wished_ the DJ had stuck with something bland. “That’s really the secret—“

_And I would give everything I own_

_Give up my life, my heart, my home_

_I would give everything I own_

_Just to have you back again_

“Why do you look sad?” Damon poked, mildly exasperated. “Stop looking sad.” He pulled her closer.

“I’m not sad,” Shoshana contradicted, teary-eyed. “I’m happy.”

“People don’t cry because they’re happy,” he claimed.

“Yes, they do.”

“They don’t cry _because_ they’re happy,” he clarified, “they cry _when_ they’re happy because they’re thinking of all the time they spent being sad.”

Shoshana smiled a little at him. “You make a strange kind of sense sometimes,” she admitted, sniffling residually.

“I know. Let’s have something a little more upbeat.” Damon stared intently at the DJ, attempting to compel him from a greater distance than he’d ever done before. If this worked he was going to try levitating objects with the Force when he got home. After a moment the song changed, the tune now faster and more countrified.

Shoshana recognized it immediately and grimaced. “Oh, I don’t like this song!” she complained.

“It’s a good song,” Damon countered, already moving more energetically to match the beat. “Come on.” It was slightly ridiculous trying to dance with someone who just stood there.

“It’s not very nice,” Shoshana said stubbornly.

“It’s about a bad person, so of course,” he agreed flippantly. “Just move your hips.” He pressed lightly with his hands, trying to set her pace. Reluctantly she started to move.

_He’s a good time cowboy Casanova_

_Leanin’ up against the record machine_

_Looks like a cool drink of water_

_But he’s candy-coated misery_

“Everyone’s staring at me,” Shoshana worried self-consciously, face flushing.

“Don’t look at them, look at me,” Damon instructed, keeping her moving. “They’re only staring at me, because I’m a d—n fine dancer.”

Shoshana laughed at this—to release nervous tension, not because she disagreed. In reality people were admiring her as well, but Damon knew it would only make her feel awkward if he mentioned it, and she was finally starting to relax and move to the rhythm—not quite as freely as when it was just the two of them at home, but that wasn’t his goal. He just wanted her to have a good time.

_He’s the devil in disguise_

_A snake with blue eyes_

_And he only comes out at night_

_He’ll give you feelings that you don’t wanna fight_

_You better run for your life_

“Remind you of anyone?” Damon teased, a knowing sparkle in his eye.

“No,” Shoshana said primly, refusing to engage.

“I know who it reminds Bonnie and Caroline of,” he revealed, entirely unoffended with their harsh assessment of him.

Shoshana’s eyes widened in surprise. “How did you know they said that?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “I was eavesdropping on your slumber party.” His grin was more self-satisfied than sheepish, however—he’d also heard Shoshana defend him to the other girls, even when she’d had little to base her defense _on_.

“It was mean of them to say it,” she acknowledged, then added, “But I let it go, because you _have_ been awfully mean to them.”

He grinned wickedly. “Wiggle your hips more, they’re watching.” She not only wiggled her hips but threw back her head and laughed—not, he suspected, for effect, because she wasn’t artful that way, but because she was excited and nervous and just on the edge of feeling uncomfortable with what she was doing, which Damon felt was always the most fun place to be. As far as ‘the edge’ went, dancing fast in public was nothing compared to his _own_ exploits, but his enjoyment came from watching Shoshana try something and remember that she liked it.

The song ended with her arm around his neck, giggling into his shoulder, and he picked her up and swung her around a little, just because he could, because he was _allowed_ and it made her squeal a little and laugh more, and he actually glanced down make sure his feet were still touching the flagstones because he felt like he might have accidentally started floating.

He didn’t want the moment to end. “You want some punch?” he asked her.

She frowned suddenly. “What if they spiked it, too?” she whispered into his ear worriedly.

Damon didn’t mind holding her close to continue the conversation. “So? It won’t bother you.”

“But what if it makes my blood bad,” she went on, starting to get worked up, “and then you can’t drink as much and you aren’t as strong—“

“Shh, it’s okay, skip the punch, then,” he assured her, unable to keep a completely serious expression on his face.

“But I’m thirsty, though,” she confessed more pragmatically, and he grinned fully.

“Well go to the ladies’ room and get some water from the sink,” he suggested. Hopefully they hadn’t started adding vervain to the water supply yet—no, Liz would’ve mentioned _that_ one for sure. It actually wasn’t a bad idea if you wanted to make your town vampire-free—no more locals used as food, even snacks—so he imagined they would suggest it sooner or later. “Look, there’s Elena, take her with you.”

Shoshana glanced towards the other girl, who was canoodling with Stefan on a corner of the dance floor. “They’re so cute together,” she remarked happily. “I’m so glad Stefan found someone nice.” She stretched up to whisper in Damon’s ear again. “I was worried about him, being alone.”

“Please,” Damon scoffed, making no effort to lower his voice, at least regarding vampire hearing. “He’s banged babes from here to Dar es Salaam. Possibly the only thing that makes him cooler than Edward Cullen.” His tone indicated that this was not much of a compliment and he watched with a smirk as Stefan overheard and rolled his eyes.

“It’s not the same, and you know it,” Shoshana told him, trying _not_ to let Stefan hear. “I was worried he wouldn’t—get attached to someone.”

“Or get _too_ attached to the _wrong_ someone,” Damon added. “Some fragile human who would die on him.” He saw Stefan carefully pull Elena a little closer, a brief grimace crossing his face in response. Good—Damon didn’t want to lose Elena, either, and there was only one way to prevent that as far as _he_ knew. The sooner Stefan accepted that, the better.

Shoshana caught onto his game. “Hush,” she hissed in his ear. “They’re having a nice time, don’t spoil it.”

Damon snickered suddenly and turned them so he could wave at his brother. “Stefan just told me to f—k off in Chinese and disguised it as a cough,” he conveyed to Shoshana with amusement. “He’s quite the little cusser sometimes. Uh-oh,” he added, looking over her shoulder. “Here comes Liz. She’s got a _look_ on her face.” He reluctantly encouraged Shoshana to step away. “Go get your drink with Elena.”

Damon greeted the Sheriff with a slightly more serious expression, to match her own. “So, any excitement so far?”

She shook her head, seemingly disappointed. “Couple of kids who shouldn’t have been drinking the champagne at all, but that’s it.”

Damon nodded sympathetically. “Yeah, I’ve been keeping an eye on my brother, I think he got the gene.” And now he was completely making things up just to see Liz’s reaction. “Well, anyway, we can take comfort in knowing we’ve set a lot of traps for the vampires tonight. Anyone who drank the champagne and gets bitten ought to be able to call 911 and report a semi-conscious attacker.”

Liz nodded grimly; of course she’d thought of that. “I hate to impose, with your wife back in the picture—“ she began, and Damon knew where she was headed.

“No, no, call me whenever you need an extra hand, day or night,” he assured her. “Don’t forget about that vervain clinical study, though. I started to get a little nervous watching people drink, especially the old people,” he added tactlessly. “Interactions with medications and all. I mean, I know Uncle Zach put vervain in his coffee every day,” he said in a somber tone, “and—well—look what happened to him.”

“What _did_ happen to him?” Liz probed curiously.

“Oh, didn’t you hear?” Damon tossed off. “He had a nervous breakdown. He’s staying with some friends in New York now. I hope he’ll be able to come home for Christmas,” he went on, as though this were unlikely.

“Well, your uncle _was_ under a lot of stress, maintaining the vervain supply for us,” Liz agreed. “He was always worried that vampires were going to find out he was growing it.”

“He said that?” Damon asked in surprise. And not a little concern—obviously Zach hadn’t said anything that made the other Council members suspicious of him and Stefan, but still.

“I have to admit I used to think he was a little paranoid,” Liz said sheepishly, “until all those ‘animal attacks’ started. It was quite startling for _all_ of us to realize that what was written in the Founders’ journals was actually true.”

“Ah, yes, the Founders’ journals. Say, I never got a look at those,” Damon reminded her.

“I’ll get you some copies,” Liz promised. “Do you know what happened to the journal _your_ ancestor, Giuseppe Salvatore, kept?” Damon tried not to grimace as she said his name. “He was a town leader at the time of the founding, but we’ve never located his diary. Could be very insightful.”

Damon snorted at this idea. “Well, from what I’ve heard, he was practically illiterate, so I wouldn’t expect more than some little stick figures with fangs.” And by G-d, he saw the corner of Liz’s mouth twitch.

But she recovered quickly. “And the Gilbert journal,” she added. “Those are the main two we’re missing.” She nodded towards Elena and Damon followed her gaze—and did not see Shoshana. “Something wrong?” Liz asked as Damon began to look around.

“Oh, I’ve just lost my wife again,” he said with annoyance, pulling out his phone. “I’ll see what I can do about those journals,” he added, walking off towards Stefan. “Where’s Shoshana?” he demanded once he was in earshot.

Stefan glanced around as well. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen her for several minutes.”

“We went to the ladies’ room,” Elena reported, “but then—I’m not sure—“

Damon brought up the GPS page on his phone. “You’re not going to be able to track her when she’s so close,” Stefan warned.

“I will if I paid enough money for this,” Damon replied, in a slightly threatening tone. Squinting at the screen, he headed back into the mansion.

Shoshana stood in the Founders’ Room, the exhibit containing all the artifacts from the earliest period of the town’s history. “And here’s the guestbook from the first Founders’ Ball,” Mrs. Lockwood pointed out, in the slightly mechanical tone of one who had recited this many times.

“Oh look—Damon Salvatore and Stefan Salvatore,” Shoshana breathed, her fingers dancing over the glass covering the yellowed paper.

Mrs. Lockwood looked like she was reminding herself to have the case Windexed at the next opportunity. “The original Salvatore brothers,” she agreed. “They were both killed during the War, I believe. Over here we have the—“

Shoshana sniffled and Mrs. Lockwood turned back to her in surprise. “It must be so wonderful to live here,” she declared moistly.

That wasn’t exactly the word Mrs. Lockwood would’ve used. “Well, certainly—“

“Surrounded by—all these beautiful stories, these memories.” Shoshana stared at the registry book. “Every one of these people was just like us. They felt the same things we feel, had the same hopes and dreams. Only they’re gone now, and we’re—here.” She’d almost said, _still_ here.

“Circle of life,” Damon interrupted dryly from the doorway, making both women jump. “All the previous generations were preparing the world for our brilliant present.” He managed to sound only _slightly_ sardonic as he said this.

“Mr. Salvatore,” Mrs. Lockwood greeted, and he winced inwardly at her frosty tone. “I was just getting to know your lovely wife.” Damon guessed that meant his flirtation with her was _not_ going to continue.

“Oh, she’s a peach, isn’t she?” he declared, as Shoshana put her arms around him tightly. “I’m lucky she took me back. You might find this hard to believe, Mrs. Lockwood, but I can be _quite_ badly behaved.”

She arched an eyebrow with interest. “I had _no_ idea.” Hmm, maybe the flirtation wasn’t _quite_ over with after all. He could still squeeze a little more utility out of it.

Although it wasn’t going anywhere with Shoshana cuddling him, oblivious though she may be. “Well, I think you’ve had too much to drink,” he said breezily to Shoshana. “Better get you home. Great champagne, by the way,” he added over his shoulder. He trusted Mrs. Lockwood would know what he meant.

Damon swept Shoshana back out to the terrace. “You got out of my sight,” he murmured into her ear. “I’m not gonna take you out if you keep doing that.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” she acknowledged. “But I wanted to see the Founders’ Room again.”

“I told you I’d show you,” he reminded her, steering her towards Stefan and Elena.

“Yes, but you didn’t mean it.” His sideways glance told her she had a point.

Stefan and Elena looked relieved to see her. “Everything okay?” Stefan checked.

“Good thing I found her when I did, she might’ve hugged Mrs. Lockwood,” Damon quipped. He glanced around at the gathering twilight. “We should go, though. It’s getting late.” Shoshana didn’t argue, remembering her last out-after-dark experience. “You two don’t have to go,” he added, seeing the look of disappointment flash briefly across Elena’s face.

“You’re taking the car?” Stefan confirmed.

“Yes. Get a ride from one of your little buddies.”

“Well, we could—“

Suddenly Elena ducked behind Stefan. “Did Mrs. Lockwood see me?” she whispered.

“No, not yet,” he reported, glancing across the terrace. “Why?”

“She keeps bugging me about participating in the Miss Mystic Falls pageant,” Elena told him sheepishly. She knew this would get a reaction from Damon and she was not disappointed by his gurgle of laughter. “Maybe we should just go. I mean, if you want to,” she added quickly to Stefan.

He grinned at her. “Of course.”

“The Miss Mystic Falls pageant,” Shoshana repeated as they headed for the car. “That sounds familiar. They still have that?”

“The Southern debutante tradition dies harder than a vampire,” Damon smirked, acknowledging Sheriff Forbes as they passed her.

“I remember seeing it before,” Shoshana went on, once they were out of earshot of anyone else. “It’s so much fun! All the girls get all dressed up and look _so_ pretty.”

“Like an all-you-can-eat buffet,” Damon agreed.

“There’s a talent portion now,” Elena reminded him pointedly. “It’s not _just_ about appearances. What?” she finally asked of Stefan, who had not stopped grinning since the conversation began.

“It’s a respected town event,” he agreed quickly, trying to sound serious. “It goes back to, what, the ‘20’s?”

“Oh, at least,” Damon nodded loftily. “Many of the Miss Mystic Falls winners have gone on to illustrious adventures. Primarily in Stefan’s bedroom.”

“Hey now!” he protested.

“Okay, mine, too,” Damon admitted readily. “There’s something about the sash and the little tiara.”

His smirk died when he saw the look Shoshana was giving him. “I can never tell when you’re joking,” she remarked in a cryptic tone.

“There _may_ have been a few Miss Mystic Falls I had a passing familiarity with,” Stefan confessed. His grin was fond, not obnoxious, and somehow Elena found it intriguing instead of off-putting.

“Maybe I _should_ compete, then,” she teased.

“Unnecessary,” Stefan insisted, kissing her cheek.

“Ew, get a room,” Damon told them with disgust. “Here, you can drive,” he added, tossing the keys to Stefan as they approached the car.

His brother stared at him, then checked the keys. They did, in fact, match the car. “Do you feel okay?” he checked.

“Of course,” Damon assured him, opening the back door for Shoshana. “I feel _much_ better than I should. And I think _someone_ deserves a reward for that.” With that he tackled Shoshana in the back seat.

Stefan should’ve known it was always a mixed bag with Damon. “Get a room,” he muttered under his breath, opening the front passenger door for Elena. “I’ll drive fast,” he promised her.

“Did I tell you how I drank champagne spiked with vervain?” Damon was saying to Shoshana as Stefan hurried the car through the streets. “Three glasses! And I felt fine.” His words were accompanied by a variety of other noises Stefan didn’t want to think about too much.

“Oh, you’re _so strong_ ,” Shoshana cooed in response, which was exactly what he wanted to hear. “I’m sure the vervain molecules were _terrified_ of you.”

“Mm-hmm, well…”

Stefan glanced over at Elena and saw her staring determinedly out the window as Damon and Shoshana made out behind her. Fortunately he thought he saw a smirk on her face half-hidden by her hand.

“Hey, by the way, I tried the champagne, too,” he pointed out. “It tasted bad but it didn’t hurt me. So, thanks, Shoshana.”

Stefan knew she wouldn’t be able to ignore his comment, out of politeness. “Oh, you’re welcome, Stefan,” she forced herself to say, though her tone was distracted.

“Don’t talk to the driver, he’s busy,” Damon ordered as Stefan smirked. Then he thought of something worthwhile to say and stuck his head between the front seats. “Oh, hey, if _you_ wanna give Shoshana a ‘reward,’ just remember our deal.” He waggled his eyebrows at Elena.

“Deal? What deal?” she asked with suspicious indignation.

Vampire reflexes meant Stefan could shove his brother back out of sight without impacting his driving abilities. “We’re almost home,” he announced. Elena shot him a narrow look but he chose to ignore it for the moment—he could explain that Damon was full of s—t, but that was easier when Damon wasn’t actually present.

“You two go ahead, we’ll stay here for a while,” Damon decided when the car stopped in the garage. Neither Stefan nor Elena had a problem with that and exited the car quickly.

“Oh, I don’t want to stay in the _car_ ,” Shoshana complained. “It’s uncomfortable, and the garage smells funny.”

“Doesn’t bother _me_ ,” Damon muttered, but he pulled her out anyway and hopped up to the door with Stefan and Elena. “Sure you guys don’t want to go back to the party?” he offered as they entered the house. “We may make a lot of noise—“ Almost before he knew what he was doing Damon reacted to the sound he heard, reaching out to grab the object shooting through the air—which turned out to be a wooden arrow aimed at Stefan’s chest.

Fired by one of several vampires standing in their living room.

The next moments were a blur, especially for Elena, who found herself shoved into the powder room they were passing. “Stay there!” Stefan ordered.

“Bite her!” Damon snapped at him, indicating Shoshana’s wrist that he held up. Stefan didn’t hesitate to feed this time, drinking as much as he dared while Damon plunged ahead. A moment later Shoshana joined Elena in the powder room and they slammed the door shut, locking it optimistically.

They both knew the lock would never keep a vampire out.

“Are you okay?” Elena finally asked. She didn’t want to think about the crashes and shouts they heard from beyond the door.

Shakily Shoshana turned to the sink and ran her wrist under the cold water, the blood from her wound draining away. The skin underneath was slightly red but nothing more. She nodded, her chin trembling, and then dissolved into tears. Elena really wished she wouldn’t, because it made Elena want to cry, too. And since part of her also wanted to race out that door and help Stefan somehow, even though she knew he would hate that, she quickly found that her good judgment had fled.

Shoshana put her arms around the other girl. “Don’t worry,” she said tearfully. “I’ll protect you.” Elena managed to disguise her bark of laughter as a general noise of distress—the situation didn’t really lend itself to laughter, anyway.

Eventually they sat down on the floor, huddled as far away from the door as they could, straining their ears to understand what words were being yelled in the house, and by whom. Glass shattered, wood splintered, shrill screams pierced the air. With every noise Elena jerked until she was constantly shivering, her dark eyes staring straight ahead at nothing, picturing every horrible thing that could be happening to the man she loved while she sat there doing nothing. Shoshana clung to her tightly, her head on Elena’s shoulder; Elena wasn’t sure who was comforting whom the most.

Then gradually Elena realized she heard only silence from the rest of the house, and somehow that was the worst of all.

Shoshana drew a sharp breath and then Elena saw it, too, a shadow in the light under the door outside the bathroom. Both girls scrambled to their feet, fearing the worst.

Then there was a knock on the door. Elena was so relieved she staggered against Shoshana—a vampire intent on killing them wouldn’t knock. Even _Damon_ wouldn’t knock.

“Elena?” Stefan called, trying the doorknob. “Can I come in?”

Shoshana moved to unlock the door; Elena found herself rooted to the spot, unable to do so. When Stefan opened the door she didn’t even notice his ripped clothing or the blood spattered across his face and clothes—she just saw that he was still there, still _alive_ , whether technically or not she didn’t give a d—n, and _that_ was when Elena finally burst into tears.

“Don’t, you’ll—“ But it was too late. Elena threw her arms around him, heedless of the mess. “Shh, it’s okay, we’re fine,” Stefan soothed her, stroking her hair gently. He didn’t know if his vampire body could actually produce endorphins; but after the situation he’d just been through every sense was on fire, in a good way, and he felt like he could fly straight to the moon and back. Elena’s tears managed to bring him back down to Earth, a little bit. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” he wanted to know, pulling back slightly to look at her face. “I didn’t mean to push you so hard before—“

“She’s been _so_ brave,” Shoshana assured him moistly. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without her.”

Elena hiccupped a laugh again, because Shoshana’s statement seemed so patently ridiculous once more, then she continued crying, feeling ever more like an idiot. Stefan smiled a little as he hugged her again, and she took comfort from that—he wouldn’t be smiling in that sweetly amused way if anything were still wrong. “It’s okay, it’s all over,” he repeated to her.

Damon wedged himself through the open doorway, looking even bloodier than Stefan did. “Well, I guess the party’s moved in here, huh,” he noted.

Stefan picked Elena straight up a few inches and walked her backwards what little he could, lest they be shoved aside by Damon or Shoshana. “Are you okay?” Shoshana asked him.

“Yes, but don’t touch me,” Damon warned quickly. “You’ll get dirty and then all I’ll hear is b---hing about how blood doesn’t come out of crêpe de Chine. Are you okay?” Shoshana nodded, holding herself back from embracing him only with difficulty. She honestly hadn’t been all that worried about him—she’d seen Damon fight vampires before and he always made a good showing. “Why is Elena crying instead of you?” he wanted to know.

“It’s just her turn,” Shoshana replied sagely.

“Okay,” Damon agreed, unconcerned with her cryptic answer. “Stefan! You gonna help me clean up this mess or what?”

“Yes,” Stefan replied firmly. “I think I’ll take the girls upstairs first.”

“Well use the kitchen stairs, because it totally looks like the set of _Saw_ out here,” Damon reminded him blithely.

Stefan was well aware of how the living room looked, he’d helped _make_ it that way. But he had to admit he shared his brother’s incongruous buoyancy about their triumph. _Must be the adrenaline_ , he decided, if such a thing were possible, and he tried to rein himself in. “Okay, let’s just go this way, no need to look back,” he said, gently guiding the two girls out of the bathroom and through the kitchen. “Thank you for letting me bite you,” he told Shoshana as they climbed the creaky back stairs. “I’m sorry it was so sudden.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” Shoshana assured him. “I’m glad I could help somehow.”

“But doesn’t she have to—“ Elena began, a fresh wave of worry washing over her and nullifying any strength she’d regained. “How did you know it wouldn’t—kill you—“ The image of the vampire who’d attacked Shoshana in the alley sprang to her mind—the way he’d crumbled to dust with barely a sound, no time to react. She clutched Stefan’s arm as though reassuring herself that he was still solid.

“It was fine, I don’t have to say anything for it to work,” Shoshana told her quickly. “I always want to help Damon and Stefan.” Stefan gave her a look of gratitude as they reached the first bedroom, which happened to be his.

“Why don’t you two get cleaned up a little, and just stay up here,” he suggested, “and Damon and I will take care of things downstairs.”

Elena nodded mutely, beginning to feel humiliated by her display of emotions and overall helplessness. She knew Stefan wouldn’t see it that way; but that wasn’t much comfort at the moment. Suddenly Stefan cupped her face with his hands and kissed her, at first gently and then with rising intensity. He pulled back just as suddenly, as if surprised at himself, then smiled at her. “I’ll be back soon,” he promised, and he tore himself away from her. He wasn’t upset and grimly seeking reassurance from her presence, the way he thought he _should_ be after the battle; instead everything about her just seemed so much more beautiful and sweet and irresistible. Stefan shook his head as he jogged back down the stairs, telling himself to focus on the task at hand. But the little smile didn’t leave his face.

“Well _finally_ ,” Damon chided when Stefan appeared in the living room. He’d gotten the fire going in the hearth already. “Bodies are hard to move alone, you know.”

“Friends help you move. Brothers help you move bodies,” Stefan quipped, picking up one end of a shriveling vampire corpse.

“The family that slays together—“ Damon began, reaching for the other end.

A scream echoed from upstairs and in literally an instant the boys were in Stefan’s room—but even at that speed they were too late. Shoshana stood in the middle of the room with her arms around Elena, as if shielding her, while fluffy grey ash floated through the air around them, settling in a pile on the carpet.

“S—t,” Damon commented.

Stefan went to Elena, no longer feeling light-hearted. “Are you hurt?” he asked urgently, looking her over. She shook her head.

It was apparently now Shoshana’s turn to cry and Damon snatched a blanket off the bed to wrap around her so he could embrace her without spoiling her dress. “We need to search the rest of the house,” he told Stefan, who prudently started with the room they were in. “Did you get a look at them?” he asked Elena, who leaned against the wall out of the way and hugged herself.

“I think it was a woman,” she offered shakily. “She was just—“ She was frustrated with her inability to be helpful even as a witness. “I don’t know, it happened so fast.”

Damon rubbed Shoshana’s arms comfortingly. “Look at you, disintegrating vampires!” he told her in an upbeat tone. “You’re so… clever!” His attempt to calm her was clearly desperate, but appreciated. He reached out and took Elena’s shoulder, guiding the two girls back into the hall. “Just sit out here where we can see you for a while, okay, until we’re done checking the house.” Elena nodded and scooted under Shoshana’s blanket, feeling terribly cold all of a sudden.

She awoke with a start to the sound of a vacuum cleaner running nearby. She and Shoshana were still sitting on the floor in the hall, leaning against the wall and sharing a blanket, and she felt stiff and numb, emotionally as well as physically. Sadly this wasn’t the first time Elena had been involved in a vampire attack, but at least in the past she’d felt like she was _doing_ something about it, not just curling up in a corner waiting for someone else to save her.

Trying not to disturb Shoshana Elena stood, limping a little as the blood flowed back into her feet. She decided that if vacuuming was being done it must mean there were no more intruders in the house, and she followed the sound into Stefan’s bedroom, where he was collecting the remains of the vampire Shoshana had disposed of.

He shut off the appliance when he saw her. “Sorry, this was the last thing I had to do,” he told her apologetically. He’d changed from his ruined suit to a t-shirt and sweatpants and washed most of the blood off his face and hands; there were still a few flecks in his hair but she tried not to think about it. Stefan rubbed her arms carefully and gave her a long look. “Are you okay?” It was not a casual question.

“I just—“ Elena’s eyes were drawn to the vacuum—so strange to think that it contained something that had once been a sentient creature, albeit one that tried to kill her. She took a deep breath and resolved to be less passive. “How many vampires were there?”

“Five, plus this one,” Stefan told her, taking his cue from her businesslike tone. He didn’t want to stop touching her, though. “We searched the whole house, there weren’t any others.”

“Did you—“ She paused, then felt foolish. “Are they all dead?”

Stefan nodded soberly. “I only recognized one; the rest were new. Turned since the tomb was opened,” he clarified. “I tried to talk to them, tell them we didn’t _want_ to hurt them, but…” He sighed. “I don’t know what they’d been told already. And the situation wasn’t exactly… conducive to discussion.”

“Why do you think there was another one up here?” Elena questioned. “Was she running away?”

Stefan’s hands slid down her arms to grasp her fingers gently. “Damon thinks the one up here was supposed to report back about what happened,” he suggested. “I guess when no one reports back, Katherine will have her answer.”

“I know you didn’t want me to be out there helping you,” Elena said after a moment, the words tumbling out finally.

“No,” Stefan agreed dryly.

“—but I just felt really… useless hiding in the bathroom with Shoshana,” she confessed. “At least she could—“ She gestured at the vacuum cleaner. “—when she had to, and I was just—no help at all—“

Stefan pulled her close against him, letting her warmth seep into him. “You _are_ doing something useful,” he informed her, and not in a patronizing way. “You make everything worth it.”

Elena wrapped her arms around him and squeezed, wondering if that could possibly be true. “You make everything worth it, too,” she decided, and she knew _that_ was true.

“Even Damon?” he murmured in her ear with a little chuckle.

“ _Most_ days,” she qualified, in a lighter tone.

Stefan pulled back so he could look at her. “Let’s have a picnic tomorrow, just the two of us,” he suggested impulsively.

Elena’s eyebrows shot up at his train of thought. “A picnic? Why?”

“Because you make me think of everything warm and sunny and peaceful,” he told her slowly, “like a picnic in an empty field.” He grinned as he said it, not a mocking smirk but a smile of pleasure, and Elena blushed at the compliment.

“I’m not warm or sunny or peaceful,” she tried to tell him, but she knew that didn’t make any difference.

For a moment he just stared down into her eyes with that same smile on his face. Then his expression changed abruptly. “I’m sorry, you must be exhausted,” he noticed. “Do you want to sleep in a different room?”

She appreciated his consideration. “No, I like your room,” she replied. She wrinkled her nose slightly. “I need to take a shower first, though.”

“Of course. Can I join you?” he asked with a charmingly sly grin.

“Of course,” she mimicked, feeling slightly giddy with exhaustion.

“Get a room,” Damon interrupted obnoxiously from the doorway. He had changed clothes as well, though he’d obviously found putting on a shirt to be too difficult.

“We’re _in_ my room,” Stefan replied pointedly to his repeated jibe.

“Oh, right. Well, Stefan really held his own this evening,” Damon informed Elena in a slightly proud tone. “You should make sure he doesn’t have to hold his own _tonight_ , if you know what I mean.”

“Please go away now,” Stefan requested as Elena rolled her eyes.

“Hero’s reward and all,” Damon continued with a smirk, but he backed out into the hall. “Come on, pretty girl, time for bed,” he said, pulling Shoshana to her feet. He let the soiled blanket fall from her shoulders to the floor, knowing Stefan wouldn’t be able to stand it and would retrieve it sooner rather than later.

“Thanks for taking me to the party,” Shoshana told him sleepily as he carried her off to his room.

“Well, thanks for giving me super vampire powers,” he returned in kind, and she smiled a little.

“Well, I wasn’t doing anything with them myself,” she decided.

In Stefan’s room, Elena pulled him into the bathroom and shut the door, turning on the shower at full blast. He wasn’t opposed to the rush, but her expression said she wasn’t doing it just for fun.

In truth she didn’t know why she was taking these precautions to avoid being overheard; but it felt right to be discreet. “The vampire in your room,” she began, and Stefan nodded with a frown. “I don’t think she actually _bit_ Shoshana. I think she just _touched_ her. And she just—“ The word Damon had used, ‘disintegrated,’ seemed the most accurate.

Stefan nodded slowly. “She’s getting stronger. If anything else happens, stay with her. She’ll protect you.” Elena no longer found this idea funny—but she didn’t find it especially comforting, either.


	16. Chapter 16

The next day it rained, so Stefan and Elena didn’t get to have their picnic. But they did take a nice, long bath in the morning, which was almost as good—and didn’t involve ants or grass stains.

“You’re very frisky lately,” Elena laughed as he pressed against her in the warm water. She chided herself as soon as she said it; she should’ve known it was going to make him pull back in concern immediately.

“I’m sorry, are you sore?” he asked seriously, looking slightly ashamed of himself.

“No, no, not at all,” she promised, drawing him back to her. “I like it. I like you being… playful.”

He nuzzled her neck eagerly. “It’s just, you smell so good… taste so good…” She closed her eyes and tipped her head back as his fingers trailed up her thigh. “Feel so good… sound so good…” he added as she moaned softly. “Hmm, what’s the other one? Oh, right.” Stefan leaned back suddenly, looking her up and down until she giggled and blushed. “Look so good.” Eyes bright he scooted close to her again. “Have you ever considered,” he asked her in a slow, deliciously naughty tone, “that since I don’t have to breathe, I can stay underwater indefinitely?” Her eyes widened as, with a smirk, he slipped under the water in front of her.

 

When Stefan and Elena came downstairs later that morning they found Damon and Shoshana in the kitchen, making brunch. Preparing food was something that occupied a lot of Shoshana’s time and energy, and consequently Damon’s as well.

Stefan braced himself for a snarky remark as Damon glanced over his shoulder at him. “Told you,” he singsonged to Shoshana. “You owe me.”

She rolled her eyes. “Good morning, Elena!” she greeted, giving the other girl a big hug. “Good morning, Stefan!”

“What are you talking about?” Stefan asked his brother after he’d hugged Shoshana back.

“Oh, nothing,” Damon replied innocently, which Stefan didn’t believe for a second. “Elena, you are just in time for a spinach-white-cheddar-mushroom omelet,” he added, flipping the egg creation in his frying pan as Stefan fetched some coffee. “You missed the American cheese-salsa omelet, which in retrospect was not really the best combination,” he admitted.

“And I’m making you a pancake shaped like a bunny rabbit!” Shoshana exclaimed from her post at another burner.

Damon expertly slipped the omelet onto a plate and cut it in half with his spatula. “ _I_ started out making the shaped pancakes, but…”

“You abused your power and made inappropriate shapes,” Shoshana reminded him primly. Damon just grinned as he set the omelet before Elena. Then he sat down at the table and purloined Stefan’s cup of coffee.

“Hurry up,” he warned Shoshana. “Your food is getting cold.”

“I’m just—oh, I ripped the bunny’s ear off!” she said with disappointment, after trying to flip the pancake.

“Stop, you’re making Stefan hungry,” Damon told her.

“I think I can fix it,” she decided, hovering closely over the pan.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Elena insisted. “This omelet’s really good,” she offered to Damon.

“I know,” he agreed arrogantly. “Eat up. You have to keep your strength up.” Stefan said something chastising to him that Elena didn’t understand, and Damon grinned broadly in response. “I love this whole swearing-in-Chinese thing. It makes me feel like we’re on _Firefly_.”

“Here you go,” Shoshana declared, setting the pancake down in front of Elena.

“Kind of looks like the Playboy Bunny,” Damon observed. “You want whipped cream for that?”

Shoshana took Damon’s hand, immediately drawing his attention like a compass to the North Pole, and sat down before her half-finished stack of pancakes to continue eating. “Stefan, are you hungry?” she asked in far too normal a tone for what the question implied.

“No, I’m fine for now, thank you,” he promised.

“Get me some more coffee while you’re up,” Damon suggested, though Stefan wasn’t actually up. Naturally, though, he rolled his eyes and went to get _two_ cups of coffee, one for him and one for his brother.

“Anybody have plans for the day?” he asked leadingly.

Shoshana was the first to respond. “I thought Elena and I could explore the house, maybe go up in the attic!”

“No,” Damon vetoed immediately, which Elena wasn’t entirely upset by. It might be broad daylight, but hanging out in an isolated part of the house after last night’s attack wasn’t exactly her first choice of activities. “I think we should all sit in the living room, keeping each other in sight at all times,” Damon went on, and Elena didn’t like _that_ plan any better.

Stefan said something else in Chinese, which caused Damon to give him a curious look. “What do you want in the attic, anyway?” Damon asked Shoshana, which seemed to concede to her plan.

“I want to see if you have any of my things up there,” she replied promptly. “Clothes, or cookie cutters maybe. Or did you burn them all and dance on the ashy remains?” she asked dryly.

“There was a little burning,” Damon admitted. “Not much dancing.”

“There were a few things up there, last time I checked,” Stefan encouraged.

“Oh, it’ll be so much fun!” Shoshana enthused to Elena.

“Won’t it be kind of… dusty and dark and scary?” she countered, thinking of her own attic.

“It might be dusty,” Stefan admitted. “But it’s pretty well lit, especially during the day.”

“Do you need protection?” Damon asked facetiously. “I could come with.”

“No, we’ll be fine,” Shoshana assured him blithely. “You can clean up from breakfast, though.”

“Okay,” Damon agreed, then blinked suddenly as if feeling he’d been tricked somehow. Stefan smirking at him didn’t help.

“Are you done, Elena?” Shoshana pressed. “Do you want anything else to eat?” Her desire to feed Elena was clearly at war with her desire to explore the attic. “You didn’t get any fruit!”

“Mushrooms are fruit,” Damon decided. “Eggs are chicken fruit.”

“No, I’m done, thanks,” Elena replied with finality, tossing her napkin aside. She was afraid if she stayed around Damon her eyes would get stuck from being rolled so much.

“Take your cell phones,” he ordered. “I will be calling at random intervals and if you don’t answer I will come after you.” It was a startlingly quick change from obnoxiously goofy to coldly threatening, which only increased Elena’s desire to be elsewhere.

It didn’t seem to bother Shoshana, though. “Okay!” she agreed with fond exasperation, kissing his cheek. Then she took Elena’s hand and led her from the kitchen excitedly.

Damon tipped his chair back so he could watch them leave. Then he drank the rest of Stefan’s coffee—his own cup being empty—and started to clear the table. “Have you been compelled?” Stefan asked dryly.

“Clearly you have no experience with how much a clean kitchen can turn a woman on,” Damon tried to tell him. “Though you _did_ put that blanket in the laundry pretty fast,” he added with a smirk.

“I _knew_ you left it there on purpose,” Stefan realized with exasperation. “How do you even have the brain power to think of those things, especially after last night?”

“It’s really pretty easy,” Damon assured him. After a moment he added in an off-hand way, “You did good, kid. Little too much talking, but you had some nice moves.”

Stefan knew the straightforward compliment was hard for his brother to get out and he appreciated it. “Thanks.” He also appreciated the novelty of sitting at the table while Damon cleaned up, though eventually he felt he ought to join in. “I’d forgotten what a big difference Shoshana’s blood makes,” he conceded.

Damon tried not to gloat. “The vervain thing was…”

“Very impressive,” Stefan agreed as he put some dishes in the sink, “though a little concerning if that’s the direction the Council is going.”

Damon nodded. “I put the idea in Liz’s head that too much vervain might be bad for humans, too,” he informed Stefan. “Cancer-causing or whatever. Might fund a study.”

“Clever,” Stefan replied. “How’d you come up with that?”

“Everything causes cancer these days,” Damon shrugged grimly, wiping off the kitchen table. “Humans weren’t meant to live as long as they do now.”

Stefan decided to steer the conversation back to a lighter topic. “So, ever since I started drinking Shoshana’s blood I’ve been feeling kind of—“ He paused, trying to find a delicate way of putting it.

“Horny? Yeah, I noticed,” Damon smirked, eschewing delicacy as usual. “Was that the big secret thing you wanted to talk about without the girls around?” Clearly he felt that it was unworthy of the build-up.

“No,” Stefan assured him, refusing to be sidetracked. “It just seems odd to me. I don’t remember it happening before.”

“You always gave in sooner before,” Damon reasoned, shoving food randomly into the fridge. “You’re getting some pretty strong brew on an empty stomach this time.”

“Well, at least I’m not drooling and chewing on vegetables,” Stefan commented dryly, rearranging the food in the fridge and removing things that didn’t need to be refrigerated.

“Sometimes I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” Damon replied with remarkable sincerity. He pulled out his phone and dialed. “Where are you?” he demanded into it.

“ _We’re in the upstairs closet, pulling the ladder down_ ,” Shoshana reported.

“Is Elena there?”

“ _Yes, I’m right here_ ,” Elena agreed. “ _Is this the closet Bonnie found you guys all squashed into the night of the sleepover? What were you doing?_ ” She was especially curious now that she’d seen how small and crowded the space was.

“Manly things, of which you have no ken,” Damon informed her solemnly. Then he hung up. “So, you’re horny,” he recalled to Stefan. “Why is this a problem? Do you need some ideas about how to avoid tiring Elena out?”

“Let’s change the subject,” Stefan decided uncomfortably.

“What? I’m your big brother,” Damon protested, stacking clean dishes randomly in the cabinets. “You’re supposed to be able to ask me for advice about confusing, scary things like women.”

Stefan rolled his eyes and followed behind moving the dishes from one cabinet to the other. “Elena is not confusing or scary,” he stated unnecessarily. “I just wanted the effect noted for the record.”

“Okay, Senator Boring,” Damon judged. “Is the secret thing better?”

“You might find it so,” Stefan decided. “I think we should consider getting a new human to live here.”

Damon’s eyes lit up. “I can agree with that.”

 

The attic was neither as scary nor as dusty as Elena had imagined—someone had obviously been up there fairly recently, maybe within the last twenty years, to pack things in boxes and neatly label them. Now she wasn’t sure if that was Stefan or Damon.

“Here’s something with your name on it,” Elena reported of a pile in one corner and Shoshana came over to investigate.

“Oh, it’s my china!” she recognized excitedly, digging into the box. “Damon bought me the whole set when we got married.” She pulled out one item and carefully unwrapped the newspaper around it, revealing a fine porcelain bowl edged in delicate flowers.

“It’s so thin and light,” Elena complimented.

“It’s the good stuff,” Shoshana assured her, repacking it gently. “Let’s take this downstairs, I’ll put it to use. Hmm, I wonder where the rest of it is?”

The girls searched the other boxes but didn’t find any more china, though they _did_ find Shoshana’s cookie cutter collection—which was all rusted. She was clearly disappointed. “Well, maybe if I scrub them…” she suggested dubiously.

“I think you should just buy new ones,” Elena advised. “There are tons in every store now. They shouldn’t be hard to find.” The gleam in Shoshana’s eye seemed suddenly dangerous.

“How about this trunk?” Elena redirected quickly, indicating a large steamer trunk nearby. “These things always have something interesting inside.”

Together the two girls pushed back the lid and the pungent smell of cedar filled the air. The trunk was packed with old blankets and clothing, some of which Shoshana recognized and some of which she didn’t.

“Is this yours? You should wear it sometime,” Elena advised of a striped shirtdress. “It’d look very stylish now.”

“This one is definitely _not_ stylish,” Shoshana giggled, pulling out a baggy plaid jumper. “Can you believe I used to wear this? In public, no less! It was the ‘done’ thing.” She pushed through a couple of the other items. “It’s funny what’s been saved and what hasn’t… Most of these clothes I didn’t really wear that often.”

Tentatively, because it seemed like an obvious subject of sensitivity, Elena suggested, “Are they what you had to leave behind when you left Damon?”

A look of sadness flashed across Shoshana’s face, but it wasn’t crippling. “I left _everything_ behind,” she told Elena. “I packed some food, and Stefan gave me some money and drove me to the train station… I don’t know what kind of h—l he caught from Damon for _that_ ,” she added sardonically. “But that was all I took, really. I just wanted to go… I didn’t even know where I was headed, we just bought a ticket for the train that was leaving right then.”

Elena nodded, more in sympathy than understanding. At the moment Shoshana and Damon seemed to have a good rapport, which Elena could never have envisioned when he first dragged her home wet, injured, and sobbing. It was a remarkable change, to see them dancing yesterday and having such an unconditional good time. But Elena didn’t trust the change, and she knew Stefan didn’t either: nothing was yet fundamentally different from the pattern of behavior he’d seen before.

“It seems odd to me that Damon didn’t follow you,” Elena observed. That was another part she’d never understood.

Shoshana shrugged a little as if she didn’t really get it either. “I think he was just sick of taking care of me,” she suggested. She smiled wanly. “I’m pretty high maintenance, after all.”

“Nonsense,” Elena replied firmly. “You’re very easy to get along with.”

“I hope you keep thinking that,” Shoshana replied cryptically. She continued to dig in the trunk and suddenly pulled out something new. “It’s my wedding dress! I can’t believe he kept it.” She held the dress up to herself in the light from the window.

It wasn’t exactly what Elena would have pictured for a wedding dress. “What color is it?” she asked, unable to tell in the dim light. It looked more like something her grandmother would’ve worn to church on Easter Sunday, frankly.

“It’s a very pale pink,” Shoshana informed her fondly. She wrinkled her nose a little. “I was living with Stefan and Damon for a while first, and… The rabbi at the time made it clear he did _not_ think I should wear white. They took that very seriously back then.” Shoshana’s phone rang and she put the call on speaker, her expression indicating who it was. “Hello?”

“ _What are you doing?_ ” Damon interrogated.

“We’re looking at my wedding dress!” Shoshana burbled to him. “And I found my china and some cookie cutters—“

“ _That’s nice_ ,” Damon interrupted boredly. Clearly he just wanted to know they weren’t being attacked. “ _Where’s Elena?_ ”

“I’m right here,” she said, adding not quite under her breath a muttered, “Jerk.”

“ _Oh, trust me, I have not yet begun to jerk today_ ,” Damon told her. He was trying to sound menacing but the girls heard Stefan laugh in the background as the phrase didn’t quite come out right.

“What happened to the rest of my dishes?” Shoshana wanted to know.

“ _Smashed_.”

“My clothes?”

“ _Burned. Danced upon_ ,” Damon replied. “ _Why are there any left, is the question_.” His tone was suspicious and no doubt directed at Stefan.

“ _You were inefficient in your destruction_ ,” Stefan told him, confirming his idea. “ _I thought maybe they would be of interest someday_.”

“Well, I’m glad you saved my wedding dress,” Shoshana decided. “Maybe I’ll wear it tonight,” she added impishly.

“ _Hmm_ ,” Damon replied enigmatically. Then he hung up. “Next she’ll be wanting me to read her love poetry,” he added to Stefan, rolling his eyes as he flopped back down on the couch in the living room.

“As if you’ve never done that.”

Damon declined to respond to that. “I’m not sure how I feel about _old people_ having the run of the house,” he commented, resuming their previous topic of conversation.

But Stefan was firm on this point. “No children. No young people who might have children later. Retirees only.”

“Didn’t realize you were so anti-child,” Damon replied snidely.

Of course, _that_ wasn’t the reason Stefan didn’t want human children living at the house, and Damon knew it. He had dispatched the human living at Pearl’s farmhouse—well, it had originally been _her_ house before it was taken over by vampires—with ease in order to gain entrance to save Stefan; Stefan didn’t want to put innocent young lives at risk in the same situation. But people who had lived full lives already and agreed to stay at the house with complete knowledge of the possible consequences—that, he could accept.

“Like you’d want a bunch of kids running around making noise and bothering you,” Stefan pointed out correctly.

Damon grimaced at the mere thought. “But old people—maybe that’s a couple, max,” he argued anyway. “That’s too easy to get rid of. We should have a rule they can’t both leave the house at the same time.”

“We’re not gonna have a _rule_ ,” Stefan contradicted tolerantly, shifting in the overstuffed chair. There was something about discussions with his brother that just made him squirm sometimes. “It’s going to be their house, too. They can have that suite of rooms on the first floor so they don’t have to climb the stairs. You’ll barely notice them.”

Now _that_ claim was a little too optimistic, even for Stefan. “Of _course_ I’ll notice them, they’ll be telling me to—to—“ Stefan waited with a raised eyebrow. “To stop having orgies in the living room. And to swear less.”

Stefan clearly did not find these reasons compelling. “Well maybe if you didn’t have Shoshana I would be more worried about your degenerate lifestyle offending someone,” he said dryly. “But since you claim you want her to stick around for a while—“

“I do,” Damon confirmed.

“And since you don’t need to chase her anymore—“

“But what if I want to for fun?”

“Why are we arguing about this?” Stefan wanted to know. “I thought _you_ were the one who wanted human occupants to improve security, and _I_ was the one who was against it.”

Damon blinked at him. “You can’t possibly expect me to just _agree_ with you about something.”

“My mistake,” Stefan noted, rolling his eyes.

“Well, anyway, _which_ old people?” Damon continued, which seemed to indicate he agreed with the point in general.

“We can have the lawyers figure out some possibilities,” Stefan shrugged. “Maybe one of Zach’s aunts or uncles who’s been to the house before, so it doesn’t come completely out of the blue.”

“Where’s Zach’s sister?” Damon asked thoughtfully.

“Rachel?” Stefan remembered with surprise. “I’m not sure… She went out of state to college…”

“She was marginally appealing when she was small,” Damon allowed. “But then I came back and she’d turned into this terrifying creature.”

“Teenager?” Stefan guessed dryly. “I remember Dave and Patty talking about her being in Denver at one point…”

“Are they still alive? Maybe they could come back here,” Damon suggested. “What? I’m used to them,” he added at Stefan’s look.

“You killed their son, jacka-s,” Stefan reminded him.

“They don’t have to know that.”

“They’re not coming back,” Stefan told him with finality. He wasn’t inflicting any more pain onto _that_ branch of the family.

“I don’t see why _you_ get to decide,” Damon countered with cold defiance. “It’s my house, too. It’s _more_ my house, because I’m older.”

“This house wasn’t built until fifty years after we died,” Stefan snapped, tired of his brother’s general contrariness.

There was a moment of mutual glaring. “Patty had a sister,” Damon reminded Stefan finally. “She grew up here, too.”

Stefan tried to bring up the family information in his mind. “Oh, that’s right, there were three girls—Patty, Penny, and Polly.”

Damon rolled his eyes at the names. “So let’s hit up Penny. We’re keeping the rule that they have to change their last names, right?” That was the only way they’d gotten a Salvatore living in the house all this time. “ _Right?_ ” he emphasized when Stefan hesitated.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that,” Stefan commented reluctantly. “I know you like the symbolism of it, but it’s not very practical these days—“

“Please, dismiss my deeply-held beliefs in family continuity by saying I ‘like symbolism,’” Damon sneered.

“You don’t _have_ deeply-held beliefs,” Stefan countered unapologetically. “You just don’t like change.”

Damon narrowed his eyes, a sure sign that he was digging his heels in. “Don’t think that just because Shoshana’s here, I’m suddenly a nicer person.” A retort rose to Stefan’s lips but he stifled it, knowing it would only escalate the situation. “You don’t get the only say in what goes on here. You don’t want kids around, fine, even though Shoshana would really like them.” Stefan’s eyes widened slightly at this motivation, which he hadn’t considered before. “You don’t want Dave and Patty, fine. Even though Shoshana would like _them_ , too. You want someone we don’t know well already, fine. Even though we have no idea what they’re like or how they’ll fit in here. But you are _not_ getting your way on the last name,” he stated icily. “This is the Salvatore house and there’s always going to be a Salvatore living in it, g-------t.”

Stefan stared at him for a minute. “Okay.”

Damon was clearly surprised by the speed and content of this answer. “Okay?” he repeated curiously.

“You seem to feel strongly about it, and you’re right, you _have_ made a lot of concessions already,” he pointed out reasonably.

“That’s _it_?” Damon asked in disbelief. “You’re just giving in?”

“I don’t like to argue, unlike you,” Stefan reminded him. “So, we have the lawyers look for retirees willing to change their names, starting with Patty’s sisters.”

“Um…”

“Did you have some other point of contention?” Stefan challenged.

“I’m sure I _do_ ,” Damon replied snidely, “but right now I have to check on the girls.”

Stefan rolled his eyes as Damon dialed. Even as a human his brother had never learned the art of giving in graciously. Family dinners always consisted of Father and Damon arguing, neither willing to back down, with Mother trying to play peacemaker—a role that later fell to Stefan since he’d inherited her even temperament, just as Damon had gotten Father’s more combative one. Not that things were really that simple, of course, since Damon had a rebellious, anti-authority streak all his own that was quite embarrassing to their father, a gentleman farmer trying to be a leader of a burgeoning town.

Stefan snapped back to the present when he heard Damon’s phone continue to ring. His brother didn’t waste any time launching himself from his chair and up the stairs towards the attic entrance, and Stefan was on his heels without even thinking. When they popped up into the attic through the hole in the floor they saw Elena and Shoshana on one side of the room, and Shoshana’s phone on the other.

In between was a large spider.

Elena looked embarrassed by their predicament, especially when she saw how worried the boys were. “It’s just a spider,” she assured them. “It just startled us, that’s all.” She made no move to go around or towards it, however.

Shoshana was less restrained in her distress. “It’s a spider, it’s a spider!” she chanted, dancing around on her toes as if trying to leave the ground entirely.

Damon could help with that. “You’re such a wimp,” he chided, nonetheless putting his arm around her and floating off the ground a couple feet.

“Save Elena!” she wailed, as though they were all going down on the _Titanic_.

Damon held out his other arm and Elena hesitated, not sure whether he was really preferable to the spider. Then the spider twitched and Elena jumped to him.

“Did it bite you?” Shoshana wanted to know, apparently serious.

“We’re three feet away from it,” Elena reminded her, trying not to sound sharp.

“Some spiders can spit venom,” Damon claimed, watching it warily. “But I’m sure Stefan will save us.”

Sighing, Stefan gently coaxed the creature into his palm, examining it with interest. “It’s not poisonous,” he assured them. “I think it’s a _Rabidosa rabida_. They’re pretty common around here.”

“Who cares?” Damon asked testily. “Just step on it!”

“I’m not going to step on it,” Stefan informed him, rolling his eyes.

“Well, smash it with something, then.”

“I’m not going to _smash_ it, either.”

“Are you going to bite it?” Damon asked with considerable interest. “That’s pretty hardcore. I would like to see that.”

Stefan gave him a look that suggested there was something quite wrong with him and headed towards one of the windows. “I don’t know what you’re so scared of,” he chided his brother. “You’re a thousand times bigger than the spider _and_ even a poisonous one wouldn’t hurt you.”

“I’m not _scared_ ,” Damon insisted, in a highly defensive and thus suspicious manner. “I just don’t _like_ spiders.” Stefan’s look said _yeah, right._ He opened the window to put the spider safely outside. “You were always playing with bugs and snakes and rats as a child,” Damon muttered darkly. “An early indication of deep-set flaws.”

Elena gave him an annoyed look. “I would’ve thought you were one of those kids who pulled the legs off of bugs for fun,” she said sarcastically.

“Please, that would involve handling them,” Damon scoffed. “I just fried them with a magnifying glass.”

“You have a more artistic temperament,” Shoshana decided fondly, stroking the hair that curled against the nape of his neck.

“I really do,” he agreed, gaze suddenly riveted to her.

“The spider’s gone,” Stefan assured them, shutting the window firmly. He started to reach for Elena but Damon floated higher, away from him.

“Ew. You touched a bug. Go wash your hands,” he demanded.

“Oh, let go of me,” Elena insisted in irritation.

“Stop pushing, you’ll fall,” Damon warned her.

Slowly Stefan bobbed up to his brother’s level, his expression expectant. “Be careful!” Shoshana cautioned as Elena was finally transferred in mid-air. “We found your sketchbooks!” she added cheerfully to Damon, deciding the spider incident was past.

He frowned. “Were they in a box with your name on it?”

“No,” Shoshana admitted with uncertainty as Stefan and Elena tensed.

“Were they in a box with _my_ name on it?”

“Yes,” she replied in a small voice. “Is that okay?”

“Eh, I don’t care,” Damon shrugged after a moment, and everyone relaxed. “What do you keep junk like that around for?” he asked Stefan. “You have serious hoarding tendencies.”

“Your sketchbooks aren’t junk,” Stefan replied, predictably.

“Let’s take them downstairs and look at them later,” Shoshana suggested. Damon seemed aggressively indifferent to the idea.

“We also found some pictures of you,” Elena commented to Damon from the safety of Stefan’s arms. “From maybe the early ‘90’s? You appeared to be… modeling clothing.” Stefan burst into laughter as he remembered these, especially when he saw the brief look of alarm on his brother’s face. “It was very artsy, very heroin chic,” Elena deadpanned.

“Okay, that only lasted a couple of seasons, it was just a novelty,” Damon replied defensively. “It was only in Japan, and… a lot of sake was consumed. Why do you even still have those?” he demanded of Stefan, who was still laughing.

“Because they’re funny as h—l,” was his succinct answer.

“I think they’re sexy,” Shoshana informed Damon in a chipper tone, which seemed to change his attitude somewhat.

“Well yeah,” he agreed, as though it should be obvious. “Vampires make great models. They don’t get tired or cold or hot, they don’t eat much, they don’t get old or fat. And I didn’t even have to stay away from daylight shoots.”

“Were you famous?” Shoshana wanted to know with some excitement. “I’m sure I never saw your picture anywhere…” And if she had, she probably would’ve been more terrified than anything else.

“Well, only in Japan,” he admitted. “Oh, but this one time I was on the subway in Tokyo and these three schoolgirls—“ Thinking ahead to the rest of the story Damon voluntarily censored himself, which just showed how bad it must have been. “Well, never mind.”

Meanwhile, Elena had been enjoying the novelty of Stefan’s anti-gravity powers. “Is this hard?” she asked, and the corner of his mouth twitched. “Difficult,” she amended quickly, blushing slightly. “Is it difficult to, er, float?”

“Not at all,” he assured her. “I don’t even have to think about it much.”

“What he _means_ is, he could do other things _while_ floating,” Damon stated suggestively.

“Thank you, I _got_ that,” Elena told him, annoyed by the intrusion.

“Things like playing Sudoku, or balancing his checkbook,” Damon went on innocently. Shoshana’s squirming was distracting him from really picking on the others, though. “What?! What are you doing? Stop it!”

Shoshana ended up with her back to him, his arms locked around her waist while she swung her feet free. “It’s really fun!” she told Elena. “You and Stefan should go flying sometime.”

“You’ll get bugs in your hair,” Damon warned grimly.

“Well, we know _that’s_ not a problem for me,” Stefan shot back dryly.

“Stop climbing on me, I’m not a carnival ride,” Damon insisted as Shoshana boldly clambered onto his back, trusting he wouldn’t let her fall to the floor several feet below.

“Have you noticed how much you complain about things you enjoy?” Stefan asked him thoughtfully, as Elena tried to follow Shoshana’s lead, though with less resistance.

“Have you noticed how dumb you are?” Damon retorted, the lame reply indicating how little effort he was willing to put into the argument. “If you kick me I _will_ drop you,” he added to Shoshana, who was now sitting on his back as he floated horizontally. “So are you done digging in the moldering archives yet?” he asked her idly.

“No,” she assured him. “There’s just a little bit more I want to look through. You can take those boxes downstairs, though,” she added, pointing to the pile she and Elena had made. “And it’s almost lunchtime. I think I’ll make veggie lasagna. You could cut up the veggies for me.” He grimaced but said nothing. “What have you and Stefan been doing?”

 Damon was watching Stefan and Elena twirl around the attic airspace, trying to think of some way to sabotage their fun because, well, that was just what he did. “Conspiring against you,” he tried to tell her. She laughed and ruffled his hair, which should have irritated him but didn’t. “We’re going to get new humans to live here,” he added, preparing himself for a burst of enthusiasm.

Shoshana was indeed very excited by this news. “A family?” she asked hopefully, bouncing a little on his lower back in a way that was not conducive to keeping a train of thought. “Will there be children?”

“No,” Damon admitted, knowing it would disappoint her. “We’re going for an older couple.”

“Oh.” She tried to look on the bright side. “Well, that’ll be nice to have them around! I wonder why the last human didn’t have a family. Was he quite young?”

Damon debated telling her, then realized there was no point in lying. “No, he was in his forties,” he replied. “He said having a family was too dangerous… I guess he had some bad memories of our previous visits. _My_ previous visits,” he amended. “I killed his grandfather in the ‘50’s, before you came back. I think that biased his mother against me.”

“It’s quite rude how you kill people all the time,” Shoshana remarked.

“I know, I’m working on it,” he claimed. “My calming imagery, remember?”

“Well, perhaps the new humans will like dinner parties,” Shoshana mused, no doubt already planning the menus. “When are they coming?”

“We just agreed to _get_ some,” Damon warned her. “The lawyers have to find them and explain things first. It might be a while.”

“Oh.”

He didn’t like hearing that tone of resignation in her voice. “So what do you want in your lasagna?”

“Mm, eggplant, squash, zucchini—“

“Do we _have_ those?”

“Unless you’ve been chewing on them,” she replied tartly, and Damon looked over his shoulder at her.

“I can’t believe Stefan told you about that.”

“It wasn’t Stefan. It was Elena!” she revealed gleefully and he rolled his eyes.

Then he thought of a way to discomfit Stefan and pitched his voice a little louder. “Hey, we should all go swing dancing sometime,” he suggested innocently. “There’s a group in Neoga that does them once a month.” He had no idea if this was true or not, but that wasn’t the point.

The point was Stefan’s sudden hesitation in his mid-air frolic with Elena. “Oh, I love swing dancing,” Shoshana encouraged, obliviously on cue.

Elena knew Stefan had some kind of hang-up about dancing in public—she found it delightfully humanizing, though sometimes she wished his reluctance was _not_ about an activity she herself enjoyed—and she looked between him and Damon to gauge their reactions. If Damon looked innocent, he was probably up to no good. “I don’t really know how to swing dance,” she demurred.

“Oh, you’ll pick it up,” Damon assured her. “Stefan can teach you, he’s really good. Especially when he’s not sober.”

Realizing his brother’s game now, Stefan rolled his eyes. “It’s not really my favorite activity.”

“I don’t like dancing in public, either,” Shoshana reversed sympathetically.

Damon gave her a look that suggested she was messing up his plan. “Well maybe Elena and I could go dancing, and you and Stefan could stay home and cuddle baby ducks. Or each other.”

Stefan decided this was a good moment to end the conversation and set himself and Elena back on the floor. “That was fun,” she told him, her arms still around his neck.

“We’ll do it again sometime,” he promised, adding, “When we’re alone,” with a significant glance upwards.

Damon drifted down until he was eye level with Stefan, though disturbingly horizontal. “One big room. One big bed!” he reminded his brother with a smirk. “Would you get down?” he added to Shoshana when she didn’t dismount.

“I forgot how,” she admitted. Stefan went to assist. “We should go horseback riding sometime,” she suggested brightly. “Do you like horses, Elena?”

“Okay, too weird for me,” Damon decided, straightening up and putting his feet firmly on the floor.

“Which boxes did you want taken downstairs?” Stefan double-checked, more to prompt Damon to help. Shoshana pointed them out and he stacked some in Damon’s arms before his brother could escape.

“Thank you!” Shoshana called after them as the boys disappeared through the hole in the attic floor. After a moment Damon and Stefan heard barely-stifled feminine giggles, no doubt at their expense.

“Look at all these pictures of me you ripped from magazines,” Damon observed, easily able to carry his boxes in one arm while rifling through the one on top. “You were like my little stalker. D—n, I look good,” he decided, gazing at one glossy ad.

“Airbrushed,” Stefan assured him, breezing past.

Damon looked mildly aghast. “No!” He squinted at the photo as they carried the boxes downstairs. “Well, _her_ maybe. She wasn’t that good-looking in real life,” he judged of the female model.

“ _No one_ is that good-looking in real life, including you,” Stefan claimed. Damon glared at him, then stopped by an ornate mirror hung on the wall and examined himself, looking between the reflection and the ad. Stefan smirked as he walked by.

“Well, I don’t see any difference,” Damon claimed. “I mean, discounting make-up and lighting and the water we were sprayed with…”

“And post-shoot airbrushing,” Stefan teased persistently from the living room. If Damon was going to make fun of his dancing confidence, he could make fun of Damon’s vanity.

His brother finally left the mirror and followed him. “Do you think I’m better-looking _now_ than I was as a human?” he asked.

“Your hairstyle’s definitely better.” Damon rolled his eyes as they both set their boxes down. They had had this discussion on several occasions, about whether becoming a vampire improved someone’s appearance or just froze them exactly as they were. Damon frequently changed his mind on the matter, depending on how much he was valuing his ‘natural beauty’ that day. Stefan usually claimed that he noticed minor imperfections, like scars and birthmarks, had been removed—a form of supernatural airbrushing, it seemed. Damon could hardly argue with that (though, being Damon, he tried), but some days he felt that effect was less prominent than others.

“Well, I think _your_ hairstyle’s _worse_ ,” Damon decided, going for an insult instead of a counterargument. “How much gel do you use on a daily basis? You know, hair gel production kills dinosaurs.”

“I use dinosaur-safe hair gel,” Stefan deadpanned and Damon finally laughed. “This looks like Shoshana’s china,” he went on, looking into the boxes he’d brought down. “And her clothes…” He draped the outfits over the back of a couch, glancing through them curiously. He held one up and pointed out, “Wedding dress.”

“Not your color,” Damon quipped. “Makes you look sallow. Apparently I got all the artwork,” he added, digging into the boxes he’d carried. “Let’s see, photos of me, photos of me, and… drawings by me. That seems fair. We could build a little shrine to _me_.”

“Can I look at your sketchbooks?” Stefan asked. “I haven’t seen them in a long time.”

“Knock yourself out,” Damon replied, shoving the box over to him.

“Maybe you’ll take it up again,” Stefan suggested mildly, opening the box carefully. He glanced up to see Damon’s reaction, but his brother seemed to be more interested in admiring his Japanese ads again. Art had always been a productive outlet for Damon’s energy, but when he was feeling especially negative he would go decades without even picking up a pencil.

“I should do a new painting for the Foundation office,” he mused idly, which Stefan took as a good sign. “They haven’t had a change in thirty years. They could use some modern style.” Part of the fun of owning your own investment company for over a century was that you got to dictate the corporate décor.

“That would be great,” Stefan replied, careful not to seem _too_ enthusiastic, since sometimes that could turn Damon off.

Obviously his brother had more important things on his mind, though. “Do you think my arm looks different in this picture?” Damon wanted to know, scooting over next to him. Stefan stifled a sigh, knowing he had set this off and was now paying the price.

“Well, I don’t think—hmm, I think this is your _other_ arm, actually,” he assessed. “I think they reversed the picture. You see here how—“

They both looked up as they heard a noise from the second floor, then quick footsteps and Shoshana’s voice. The boys hopped to their feet, staring as Shoshana stormed down the stairs carrying something dark, with Elena behind her. “—of all the ghastly, inhumane, horrible—“

“What’s wrong?” Damon asked her.

“What’s wrong? WHAT’S WRONG?” Shoshana repeated angrily, flinging the black piece of cloth at him. “Why do you have this?!”

“Oh s—t,” Damon declared, when he unfolded the bundle. Stefan winced as he recognized it.

“Why do you have a _Nazi uniform_ in the attic?” Elena asked, not unreasonably.

“It’s for an SS officer, actually,” Damon clarified, but Shoshana didn’t care about the details.

“WHY DID YOU KEEP THIS?!”

Damon did not have a good answer. “Um, well, I just forgot it was up there,” he tried, which was probably the truth, but that wasn’t getting him anywhere. “Look, it’s hard to get rid of Nazi uniforms,” he went on, starting to get defensive.

“Burn it!” Shoshana spat.

Stefan moved to intervene. “I’m sure we can take care of this,” he soothed. “We’ll just put it in the fireplace—“ It worked for dead vampires, it ought to work for a Nazi uniform.

“No,” Damon said, with foolhardy defiance.

“No?” Shoshana snapped dangerously.

“It’s _my_ Nazi uniform, I killed a Nazi to get it, and I want to keep it!” he declared hotly. “As a war trophy.” Stefan pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“Why did you—“ Elena began in confusion. “Wait, why did you kill a Nazi?”

“To get his uniform,” Damon told her unhelpfully.

“I was in Vienna, with the Nazis harassing Jews in the street and randomly arresting them,” Shoshana recalled coldly, “and one day there was a knock on the door, and I open it to find 1) Damon and 2) in an SS uniform. I fainted dead away, I was so scared.” She glared at him stonily.

“I came to rescue you!” he pointed out indignantly.

“Oh, it was just a disguise,” Elena realized. She must have sounded a little too relieved, though, because Damon turned his angry gaze on _her_.

“You thought I was _really_ a Nazi?” he accused with disgust. “ _Really?_ ”

“I don’t think you can take the moral high ground over anyone!” Elena shot back defensively.

“You know what, I’m just gonna take this,” Stefan decided, tugging a little to get the uniform away from Damon, “and put it away, and we can donate it to the museum.”

“What museum?” asked Elena as Stefan tucked the uniform away in the back of a closet.

“In New York, at the Foundation office,” Damon snapped, which didn’t really answer her question. He was back to glaring at Shoshana. “ _I_ got you out of there, and your little friends, too.”

“I guess I should be glad you didn’t kill them yourself!”

“You d—n well should!”

Elena looked slightly nervous and backed away to stand near Stefan, but he knew the pattern—one of them would cave any moment. The only uncertainly was who—

“Okay, look, I’m sorry I kept it,” Damon reversed suddenly. Stefan could see that he was still mad, but he was trying to rein in his temper. “I just, um—I _did_ rescue you from the Nazis. The _real_ Nazis.”

“I know you did,” Shoshana agreed, throwing her arms around him. “I was just so scared and confused! And I didn’t like finding the uniform suddenly in the attic.”

“Well, at least it wasn’t another spider,” Damon decided, clearly thinking this was reasonable.

Stefan gave Elena a look that indicated the drama seemed to be winding down. There was no shortage of that when Damon and Shoshana were around. “Are you girls done in the attic?” he asked them, trying to redirect the conversation. “I’ll start making lunch.”

“Damon’s going to make lunch,” Shoshana countered.

“Yes, I love cutting vegetables,” Damon intoned with a grimace, still hugging her.

“And I’m going to feed Stefan.”

Stefan’s eyes widened slightly and he inadvertently glanced at Elena to check her reaction. “Er, you don’t have to,” he said quickly. “I’m fine.”

Naturally Damon pounced on his discomfort as an outlet for his own irritation. “Oh, you haven’t eaten since last night, and then you used a lot of that up,” he reminded Stefan. “You gotta have regular meals or your system won’t adjust right. And you know what happens _then_ ,” he added in a tone that suggested something ominous.

Now _Elena_ looked worried. “What happens?” she wanted to know.

“Nothing,” Stefan insisted. “Quit being an a-s,” he told his brother.

“Whatever,” Damon shrugged. “It’s your choice.” It seemed quite clear that Stefan was putting himself at risk somehow by not feeding on Shoshana.

“I think I’m gonna change clothes,” Elena said suddenly. “The dust and everything… So if you want to—“ Her body language connected Shoshana and Stefan.

He tried to protest. “I don’t—“

“That sounds like a good idea!” Shoshana decided buoyantly, and Damon nodded innocently over her shoulder. “I’m gonna change real fast, too, then I’ll feed you. Okay, Stefan?” She skipped off to her room with Elena following more soberly.

“You’re worrying Elena for nothing,” Stefan said, as soon as the girls had disappeared.

“Well, it’s not _quite_ nothing,” Damon said, without much concern. “If you feed on Shoshana every day you’re stronger and won’t feel so loopy afterward.”

“Hardly worth worrying Elena.”

“Worrying Elena worries _you_ ,” Damon pointed out baldly.

“Which you desire _because_?” Stefan prompted, his patience nearing its end.

“I’m mad about the Nazi uniform, and irritating you makes me feel better.” Stefan took a deep breath, even though he didn’t need to breathe. “Hey, admitting it is the first step!” Damon smirked.

“Try taking a few more,” Stefan suggested, “towards _fixing_ it.”

“I literally cannot imagine what I would do without you to harass,” Damon proclaimed. He _may_ have meant it affectionately, but Stefan was not really in the mood for his twisted brand of love.

Hmm, maybe he _was_ kind of hungry, after all.

“We’ve spent considerable time apart,” Stefan reminded him, even as he headed upstairs to see Shoshana. “What did you do _then_?”

“Eh, can’t remember,” Damon dismissed, digging into the closet where Stefan had stashed the uniform.

“Leave it alone!” Stefan advised from the second floor.

“I’m not—I’m just looking for—“ Damon pulled out a random item. “—galoshes. For when I go outside in the rain to check the—“

“Don’t bother, I don’t care,” Stefan called down, shutting a door between them.

“Well, I don’t want it to get wrinkled,” Damon muttered to himself, straightening out the sleeves of the black jacket he finally found. “It _is_ a war trophy, after all.”

When Elena came back downstairs a few minutes later she found a pair of galoshes inexplicably in the middle of the living room floor and Damon in the kitchen dutifully chopping vegetables. He glanced over his shoulder to acknowledge her.

“Cute hoodie. Is it new?”

His question seemed serious. “Yeah, I guess,” Elena answered, realizing the others must still be upstairs.

“Does it have a sexual innuendo written across the back?” he inquired politely.

“Not to my knowledge,” she replied frostily, deciding she would wait in the living room.

“J---s, don’t look for offense in everything,” he told her, rolling his eyes. “That is Shoshana’s favorite color of pink and I want to get her one. But she won’t wear it if it says something like ‘Juicy’ or ‘Get Lucky’ on the back.”

Elena didn’t know whether to believe him or not. “Oh. Well, it just says the brand name, I think.”

He indicated she should turn around and show him, so she did. “Hmm, seems fine,” he decided, going back to chopping. “By the way, nice booty pants,” he added cheekily.

Elena made a noise of exasperation and dared to smack his arm as she went by. Damon moved away as she made contact so she wouldn’t hurt herself, laughing at her outrage. There was something almost pleasant about his manner, though, so Elena was nearly tempted to smile. Nearly.

“I’d get a pair of those for Shoshana, too,” he claimed, “but she thinks having _anything_ written across her a-s is obscene.”

“I do not understand why she likes you so much,” Elena declared.

“It’s complicated,” Damon replied dismissively.

She rolled her eyes. “Can I help with lunch?”

He gave up his post immediately. “I thought you’d never ask,” he said with great relief. “You can chop the veggies.”

“You don’t like chopping things?” she observed dryly, taking over.

“Eh… _Food_ ,” he replied in a vague but exasperated way. She assumed he meant _human_ food, such as vegetables, and not something _he_ actually enjoyed eating.

“And what are _you_ going to do?” she prompted lightly.

“Everything else,” he claimed, his tone suggesting this task was endless in its scope. “I have to boil the noodles, make the sauce, preheat the oven…” He pushed a button on the stove. “Well, check _that_ one off.”

That was definitely the easiest chore involved in making vegetarian lasagna and Elena was glad she’d ended up just tediously slicing a zucchini. “You and Stefan seem to be pretty good at cooking,” she observed, throwing out a friendly line of conversation to see what his bite would be like. “Where did you learn it?”

“Cooking for Shoshana,” Damon replied straightforwardly. “Stefan just _enjoys_ it, though,” he added. Clearly he disagreed. “He likes the ritual, even if he can’t eat the end result. Kinda OCD.”

Elena smirked a little, because she’d also noticed that Stefan liked doing things that weren’t really necessary for him—like dressing for cold weather or studying for tests. “Well, at least he’s not labeling little boxes of everything in the kitchen,” she teased.

“That is only for party purposes,” Damon claimed, “when I’m not _invited_ to the party.” They were quiet for a minute. “Your boy did a good job yesterday,” Damon said suddenly.

Elena looked up but he had his back to her, assiduously watching the water boil. “You mentioned that last night.”

“I didn’t want you to think I was just kidding,” he decided. “He didn’t like doing it.” Damon glanced back at her finally. “He tried to convince them not to attack.” Elena nodded slowly. “But he had to fight them and he was able to.”

“Because of Shoshana,” Elena supplied.

“He sure as h—l wasn’t gonna do it on squirrels,” Damon agreed. “Now he can protect himself. And you.”

She slowed her chopping as her concentration fled. She had pushed aside her feelings of helplessness and terror from last night but now they came rushing back, flooding her system. She looked up to see Damon gazing at her curiously and had the distinct impression he’d been looking for this result.

She turned away, allegedly to wash her hands. “Shoshana was very brave,” she said, when she felt her voice would be steadier. “When—the one in the bedroom—“

“Didn’t bite her, I know,” Damon nodded, not sounding surprised. “We’ve seen that before when she gets really scared. It’s not really bravery, just instinct.”

“Well _my_ instinct was to sit in the corner and cry, so…” The words were out, in all their bitter revelation, before Elena realized she’d said them. She froze in place, dreading Damon’s response.

“I guess it didn’t matter,” he said, and she wondered if he was really going to leave it alone. “ _This time_.” Her head snapped up, meeting his gaze. “You’ve fought back before, what was the hang-up this time?” When she didn’t answer right away he added, “I mean, J---s, you were the one who snuck into a vampire lair to save Stefan. Have you gotten smarter since then?” His tone was light but probing—far from the soothing reassurances Stefan had given her, but not derisive either.

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “I just—I just couldn’t do anything. I didn’t know _what_ to do.” The frustration came through her voice as she resumed hacking away at a poor squash on the cutting board.

“You could take up martial arts,” Damon suggested. He’d gone back to mixing something on the stove. “You’d probably be good at it, you did cheerleading. That’s a sport now, right?” he added sarcastically, because he’d obviously gone far too long without making a mocking comment. “Go all Buffy on some vampire a-s.”

“Do you know, I was _ten_ when that show ended,” Elena remarked and Damon gave a shudder of horror.

“Oh G-d, really?”

She took momentary satisfaction in making him feel old. Then she added more seriously, “I don’t think Stefan would like me doing that.”

“Oh, sorry, are we talking about what _Stefan_ would like?” he shot back. “In that case, here’s a tip: garter belt and ankle boots.”

“What?” Elena sputtered.

“The Moulin Rouge nearly did him in,” Damon claimed, and Elena laughed unexpectedly at the imagery. “But if we’re talking about what _you_ want,” he went on more seriously, “there’s an even better way you could help protect the people you care about.”

She knew what he was talking about immediately, just from the look in his eyes, and she felt intensely uncomfortable. “I don’t—I don’t know if I could give everything up like that,” she admitted softly.

“What exactly would you be giving up?” he pressed. “Old age? Sickness? Weakness? Death?”

“The people I care about,” she replied automatically, and he started to scoff. “To protect them, I couldn’t—be like them anymore. I couldn’t grow and change with them. Jeremy, Bonnie, Jenna—they would all move on with their lives, experience everything it means to be human, and I would just be… stuck behind.”

Damon stared at her, blinking rapidly. “No one has ever described being a vampire as being _stuck_ before,” he told her. “Stefan and I aren’t _stuck_. We can go anywhere we want in the world, meet anyone, do anything—“

“And where are you?” Elena interrupted. “You’re still in the same town you died in, still in the house you’ve been coming back to for a hundred years. Stefan’s still pretending to be a normal high schooler, you’re still poking at him like you’ve done since you were children a hundred and fifty years ago. Everything and everyone around you has changed, and you’re still… stuck.” Her eyes stung and she brushed angrily at the tears forming in them. “I don’t want to be visiting the graves of people I cared about in a hundred years, unable to look forward, only back.”

Suddenly Damon was very close to her, tipping her chin up to force her to meet his gaze. “We can look forward,” he told her softly, his eyes flickering over her face. “We can… find new people to care about.”

Elena shook her head. She didn’t count as new—she knew Stefan loved her but there wasn’t a moment when she didn’t understand what drew him to her. “Katherine—“

Damon put a finger on her lips to silence her, then leaned down to whisper in her ear. “You don’t look like Katherine to him. Not anymore.”

Elena felt her breath catch at his words, aching to believe him. Hearing the thought expressed by someone else gave her hope, even if she wasn’t sure she could trust his judgment—or motivations.

Only Damon would try to flirt with her by assuring her of Stefan’s love.

And she knew she’d been spending too much time with them when his approach made perfect sense to her.

Suddenly there was a hissing sound and Damon dashed back to the stove, where the pot was boiling over. “S—t,” he muttered, yanking it from the heat and turning the burner down. “Are you done chopping yet?” he asked her with mild irritation, his tone a complete one-eighty from just a moment ago. “I need to get this in the oven soon.”

“Almost,” Elena assured him, thinking she would never understand Damon’s mood swings.

“Good. ‘Cause this takes forever to bake, I don’t know why she wanted it for lunch,” he grumbled, putting the pot back on the heat. “She’ll probably eat a full meal before—“ He looked up suddenly and whooshed towards Elena, who had been completely oblivious to the fact that Stefan was coming up behind her—until he let out a noise of indignation as Damon forced him to back away from her.

“What are you—“

“Hold this,” Damon ordered his brother, handing him the plastic spatula he’d been stirring with.

Mystified, Stefan took the spatula—and promptly squeezed too hard, snapping it in half. The look of horror on his face showed he realized it could easily have been Elena’s arm.

“This is what I’m talking about,” Damon lectured. “Regular meals mean faster adjustment.” Elena wasn’t entirely certain what they were talking about and tried to give Stefan a questioning look, but he wouldn’t meet her gaze. “Come on, let’s go outside for a little while,” Damon decided, walking Stefan towards the back door.

“Stefan?” Elena tried. She was still upset from her discussion with Damon and seeing her boyfriend led away like a leper wasn’t helping.

Damon turned back like he’d forgotten she was there. “Just, um, stir stuff,” he advised vaguely. “Shoshana should be around soon.” With that he pushed Stefan out the door, not that Stefan was resisting much—he held his hands up like he was afraid to touch anything lest he destroy it.

Through the window Elena saw them start to jog across the backyard towards the woods, with Damon grabbing Stefan when he went too fast—it was cloudy but still the middle of the day and the neighbors might see them. After a few minutes they disappeared into the trees.

“Did I just see the boys running into the woods?” Shoshana asked in disapproval, walking into the kitchen. “They’re going to get all muddy again… and Damon didn’t finish making lunch!” Elena faced her with wet eyes and Shoshana’s expression changed immediately. “Elena! What’s wrong?” she asked, automatically embracing the other girl.

Elena laid her head on her shoulder and thought about vampire attacks and Nazis and what kissing Damon would be like and the guilty look on Stefan’s face and everything else that had been swirling around her for the past few days. “I’m so confused,” she confessed inadequately to Shoshana.

“Oh, it’s okay,” Shoshana assured her, squeezing her tight and stroking her hair. “That happens to me a lot, but I don’t let it bother me.”

Elena leaned back to look at Shoshana and the other girl grinned knowingly, causing Elena to giggle unexpectedly—more a release of tension than anything else. Shoshana hugged her close again. “I love your outfit, you’re like a big, pink, soft bunny,” Shoshana declared, petting the fabric of Elena’s hoodie. She peered around for a more complete view. “Oh, there’s something written across your rear end,” she observed with disappointment. “I don’t really like wearing things like that.” Elena chuckled again, surprised and yet not to find that Damon was actually telling the truth about something.

“Well, you probably want to get lunch going,” Elena suggested, pulling back finally.

“It might be more of an early supper,” Shoshana decided, releasing Elena and taking up Damon’s post at the stove. “It takes a while to bake. In the meantime we can have roast beef sandwiches and spinach salad and chocolate cake! I have some leftovers but it’s not fit for a _real_ meal…” Elena shook her head and was glad she’d chosen pants with an elastic waist.


	17. Chapter 17

A couple hours later Elena was lounging drowsily on a couch in the living room, stuffed full of food like a Thanksgiving turkey and lolling her head securely against Stefan’s shoulder. The boys had indeed returned muddy but in better spirits and she could almost fall asleep to the rhythm of his fingers through her hair, her relaxation oddly uninterrupted by things like his breathing or heartbeat.

She tried not to think about that too much.

Of course, having Damon and Shoshana in the same room didn’t really contribute to a peaceful atmosphere.

“Ooh, remember this?”

“G-d, I hate that dress.”

“But it’s such a pretty color!”

“It itches.”

“Well don’t wear it.”

“It itches _you_ and you complain about it!”

“I don’t remember that.”

“What a shocker.”

“Guys,” Stefan interrupted quietly. “Can we look at your sketchbooks? I didn’t get a chance earlier.”

Elena struggled to sit up even as Stefan indicated he didn’t mean to disturb her. She’d only caught a glimpse of the books’ content in the attic and was curious to see more. “I didn’t know you were an artist,” she told Damon as Shoshana passed one of the sketchbooks to her. (Dragon-related car art aside, of course.)

“It’s nothing,” he dismissed, nonetheless opening a second one with Shoshana curled up beside him.

The pages were filled with quick pencil drawings and the occasional more polished pen-and-ink study, the subjects ranging from people’s faces to statues Elena recognized from art history books to abstract designs. It was like Damon felt compelled to record the little things around him that caught his eye, from an unusual face to a graceful flower to a corner of an intricate mosaic pattern on a building—strange when one considered his oft-mentioned perfect recall. But then again Stefan did the same thing, writing thoughts in his journals he could easily have just remembered. Elena had no experience with perfect recall, of course; but she understood the compulsion to create something, how sometimes the need to express herself was overwhelming, even if the events she recorded in her journal were ones she thought she’d never forget.

“This must be Tangiers,” Stefan decided as they leafed through a few pages. “And this is from the Alhambra. We should go back there sometime.”

“What’s the point in going back?” Damon asked, and Elena looked up to see him staring at her. “We should go someplace new.”

“I remember this fountain,” Shoshana declared, gazing at the book she and Damon shared. “It was at that little country house on the Black Sea. It was so nice there.”

“You did a lot of sketching and painting there,” Stefan recalled. Right after they’d met Shoshana they’d vacated Vienna for someplace a little more remote, a sun-drenched estate on the Ukrainian coast. “Well, it was a more obvious travel destination back then,” he added to Elena.

“Had to pass the time somehow,” Damon remarked. He always managed to sound slightly bored by his own art, which Stefan assumed was a defense mechanism against criticism.

“Oh, it’s—“ Elena glanced at Stefan before she said the name of the person she recognized on one page, in case he thought it would bring the mood down.

Apparently, he didn’t. “It’s Lexi,” he confirmed. She had been drawn with curled hair and a sparkly band around her head, like a character from _Chicago_. “We were in, hmm, Philadelphia during Prohibition when we saw her.”

“Best time to get drunk _ever_ ,” Damon declared. “Some of the bootleggers made this stuff that would practically kill me when I drank it.”

Stefan knew what he was talking about immediately. “At that club with—“

“They cut the gin with paint thinner—“

“—and you passed out right in the middle of the chorus line—“

“That was on purpose,” Damon claimed. “Then we got into it with those gangsters who—“ Damon glanced over at Shoshana to see the disapproval etched on her face. “Mmm,” he finished vaguely, turning the page in his book and finding the new drawings very interesting. Stefan and Elena made eye contact and tried not to snicker.

“These are really good,” Elena offered as Stefan reached for another book. She was prepared to be rebuffed somehow but wanted it said anyway. “You know, Jeremy likes to draw, too.”

“Well, art has been attracting deviant minds for millennia,” Damon replied dryly.

Stefan was staring at the page he’d turned to and Elena followed his gaze. “Is that _you_?” she asked in surprise. The features were recognizably Stefan’s, but younger, maybe ten years old. A nearby series of sketches showed him at different ages, going back to a chubby-cheeked baby.

“Seems so,” he agreed, a smile tugging at his lips. “I used to model for Damon a lot when we were kids,” he added with a smirk, though these drawings had clearly been done at some post-vampire time point.

“That’s because you were so good at sitting still,” Damon told him, his tone indicating this was not a compliment.

Stefan turned the page and smiled again. “This is our mother,” he told Elena of the bright-eyed woman in the drawing. He leaned over to whisper in her ear, though he knew it wouldn’t obscure his words. “Damon kind of looks like her.”

“I can see the resemblance,” she whispered back, because she really could.

“Yes, it makes me terribly sad to have missed out on the Salvatore nose,” Damon returned snidely, which immediately made Elena look at Stefan’s nose as he twitched it self-consciously.

He hastily turned the page. “That’s our father.”

“I see what he means,” Elena decided. There was a distinct resemblance there, too, this time with Stefan. “He looks very…” She hesitated.

“Angry?” Stefan supplied. “Yes, to Damon he frequently did.” Damon made a little snort-growl sort of noise, which Elena interpreted as a paternal insult too vile to say aloud. She had not been surprised to learn that Damon had not gotten along with his father—these days he was the type to rebel against whatever rules were placed on him, no matter how sensible, and she imagined him that way as a human, too.

“This is our maternal grandmother, Vittoria Molinari,” Stefan went on, indicating a new portrait. At first glance the older woman seemed stern; but upon closer inspection Elena detected the corner of her mouth quirking up just slightly in a smile. “G-d, you really captured her,” Stefan admitted to his brother. “That’s exactly how I remember her.” Damon seemed momentarily pleased by his admiration, then quickly moved on, pointing out something in another drawing to Shoshana. “Is Nonno next?” Damon indicated yes and Stefan grinned at Elena. “Now you’re going to see what Damon would look like if he got old,” he promised, turning the page.

It was exactly as described. “Oh my G-d,” Elena exclaimed, staring at the picture of the older man. She glanced between Damon and the sketch several times.

“Our grandfather, Elio Molinari,” Stefan introduced. “And let’s just say they weren’t only alike in appearance,” he added teasingly.

“That’s right, because Nonno was _cool_ ,” Damon agreed arrogantly.

“He was a _character_ ,” Stefan amended. “When I was little he taught me swear words in Italian and told me to say them at the dinner table.”

Damon snickered at the memory. “And when we were left with them he would give us brandy so we’d fall asleep faster,” he chimed in. The girls weren’t sure if they should be amused by that or horrified.

“He never gave _me_ any,” Stefan protested.

“Well, that’s because you went to bed when you were told,” Damon decided, as if this were a defect.

“I do remember the time you _got into_ his brandy and threw up on Nonna’s Chinese rug,” Stefan mentioned innocently.

“Why do all these stories involve you drinking too much alcohol?” Shoshana asked coolly.

“Um, in the past it wasn’t safe to drink the water,” Damon tried, giving Stefan a look. “Oh, okay, here’s my favorite story about Nonno,” he went on, and Stefan rolled his eyes, knowing what was coming. “So he was drunk, right, and he got into this bar fight, and the other guy pulled a knife and slashed him across the stomach. He had to hold his guts in until the doctor got there.” Clearly he relished the disgusted noises the girls made in response. “Then when the doctor gets there, Nonno is like, ‘What’s this?’ And the doctor says, ‘That’s your liver.’ And then Nonno _spits_ on it! And he says, ‘Okay, you can sew me up now, and I can tell people I spit on my own liver!’” Damon finished the story with a flourish—to utter silence and three people staring at him. “Well, _I_ think that’s a great story,” he muttered, going back to his sketchbook.

“It’s very, erm, unique,” Shoshana assured him supportively.

“What about your father’s parents?” Elena asked Stefan, once she felt the liver-spitting moment had passed. She liked to hear him talk about his family—it was a rare subject, for some reason. Maybe because it was all so long ago for him.

“They died before we were born, didn’t they?” he checked with Damon.

“In Baltimore,” Damon confirmed, his tone indicating this was somehow a strike against them.

“Our father had an older brother who inherited the family store, so he came a little bit west to start his own farm and eventually helped found the town,” Stefan summarized neatly.

“Well _that_ doesn’t leave anything out,” Damon judged sarcastically.

Stefan rolled his eyes and turned the page. “That’s our house,” he explained to Elena. “The one that’s in ruins in the woods now.”

“Wow, I guess he did okay farming,” she surmised, looking at the wide, columned porch and ornate carvings that wouldn’t have been out of place in _Gone with the Wind_. Stefan shrugged modestly; naturally Damon had something negative to say.

“Turn the page, see who did the actual _work_ ,” he suggested. Elena did so curiously.

“Servants?” she guessed hopefully, seeing the faces that were clearly of African origin.

“Slaves,” Stefan admitted. “It was very common at the time,” he added matter-of-factly, because, well, it _was_. “This is our housekeeper, Novella,” he explained fondly, pointing to one sketch. “She was basically our nanny. And this is her son, Midas—he was huge, like a football player. But so gentle. The most skittish horses would come right up to him.”

“You fought in the Confederate Army, didn’t you?” Elena asked Damon, trying to wrap her mind around the concept of slavery that she was thankfully far removed from.

“Third sharpshooters’ division, attached to the 23rd Virginia Infantry,” Damon answered automatically.

“You must have very good hand-eye coordination,” Shoshana judged.

“Naturally.”

“I guess you were… okay with slavery, then?” Elena suggested delicately. “At the time, I mean, it seemed normal. To everyone. To fight for it.” She really wasn’t trying to start an argument, just to understand the era better.

Damon gave her a look. “Where were your shoes made?”

“Um, I don’t know,” Elena replied in confusion. “China?”

“They were probably made in a sweatshop under dangerous conditions by people who aren’t paid a living wage,” he deduced flatly. “Are you okay with that?”

“Damon,” Stefan warned.

“No, I see his point,” Elena allowed. “It was helpful and convenient, so you tried not to think about the bad parts.” Damon inclined his head towards her, as if mildly impressed by her insight.

“And there was a lot of social pressure to join the army,” Stefan supplied, in his brother’s defense. “I might have had to join myself, if… things had lasted longer.” Elena unconsciously tightened her grip on his arm.

“Father would’ve shipped you off to medical school first,” Damon countered. “Notice _I_ didn’t get the offer to go to college instead.”

“That’s because you didn’t _apply yourself_ ,” Stefan pointed out. They had both clearly heard the phrase directed at them before.

Damon heartily agreed. “I preferred life as a wastrel, waiting for my inheritance.” He grimaced. “I’m glad we died when we did. Reconstruction was a d—n mess. I don’t know what we would’ve done with the farm.”

“Who got the farm when you, er, died?” Elena asked curiously.

“Cousin Joe,” both boys replied, with a similar amount of loathing in their voices. “He was the son of Father’s older brother,” Stefan went on to Elena. “Came to visit us several times.”

“A total d—khead,” Damon assessed bluntly. “But not charming, like me,” he added, and Elena almost smiled.

“Is he in here?” she asked, indicating the sketchbook.

“Look in the farm animal section for the donkey,” Damon muttered, which Elena took as a _no_. Stefan smirked knowingly. “Check these out,” Damon added, handing Stefan the book he’d been perusing. It was a different style, more battered, with loose pages slipping out. “Cousin Joe’s only good quality was that he kept everything in the house,” he decided. “At least long enough for me to get what I wanted.”

“Is this—“ Stefan opened the cover carefully. “Is this from when you were younger?” Elena understood that to mean pre-vampire and eagerly looked over Stefan’s shoulder.

The sketches began crudely, with many false starts and half-finished drawings, but they soon grew more lifelike and sophisticated. Elena recognized some of the faces from the later collection they’d just seen, only here the portraits had an urgency, an immediacy, as if the artist were trying to grab on to something before it disappeared, frantically scribbling the images on the page. Everyone looked oddly older, more careworn than in the drawings Damon had done later from memory—young Stefan sat in bed with sunken cheeks, their mother had dark circles under her bright eyes, and their grandfather looked more like a man who’d barely survived a difficult life than a colorful rogue. Novella the housekeeper stared off into space in one portrait, as if she had cast her mind a thousand miles away from the house she was bound to. Elena stared at that one for a long time.

Other faces were new, those of people Damon and Stefan had known around town—especially young ladies, who were apparently quite charmed by a boy who could create their likenesses with pencil and paper. These sketches, Elena noted dryly, were _not_ so realistic—all the more to flatter the subject, she supposed. The names Stefan told her were mostly those still heard around town today—the Fells, the Forbeses, even a young Gilbert lady who, fortunately, looked totally unfamiliar.

He turned the page and paused on a sketch of a little girl. “Who’s this?” Elena asked curiously. She was the only child aside from Stefan Damon had chosen to immortalize.

Stefan’s brow furrowed. “I think…” He turned the book around to face Damon. “Is this Alice?”

“Not really,” Damon answered cryptically. “It’s just the best I could remember. I could never find any photographs of her.”

“Who’s Alice?” Elena wanted to know as Stefan gazed at the sketch.

“Our sister,” he finally answered, and her eyes widened in surprise.

“I didn’t know you had a _sister_ ,” she exclaimed.

“ _He_ didn’t, really,” Damon non-clarified.

“She died when I was a baby,” Stefan explained to Elena. He stared at the girl’s face for a long moment, rolling back through the decades as if trying to recall her himself.

“She was seven, a couple years older than me, and there was an accident on the farm,” Damon added, seemingly without much interest in the subject, which Elena had learned meant just the opposite. “Happened all the time back then.”

“Oh.” For some reason this information seemed terribly important to Elena—it didn’t change anything, not really, and yet it meant Damon hadn’t always been the oldest, that it hadn’t always been _just_ the Salvatore brothers, that at one point in their lives—however briefly—there had been a third entity, someone who might’ve brought them into balance. She wondered how things would’ve been different if Alice had lived longer, if she had somehow survived to the present day. Glancing up suddenly, Elena decided she wasn’t the only one imagining this.

The next page in the sketchbook was blank, as were all the rest to the end. “You stopped drawing,” Elena observed, a question in her tone.

“I joined up,” Damon stated simply. “And I didn’t want to remember things anymore.” And when he’d left the Army, it was because of Katherine—the only good thing the woman had ever caused, in Stefan’s opinion, though at the time he’d found it jealously irritating (which naturally led to guilt as well). And Damon had been too obsessed with Katherine then to do anything he used to enjoy.

Stefan glanced up from the blank page and saw Damon staring down at the sketchbook _he_ currently held, a familiar expression of longing and loathing rolled into one on his face. It was obvious whose portrait he had found, and the look of discomfort on Shoshana’s face only confirmed it. Apparently Stefan wasn’t the only one suddenly reminded of Katherine. “Turn the page,” he muttered under his breath, pitched for Damon’s ears only.

His brother started suddenly, as if coming back to reality, and quickly flipped ahead in the book. “Well _now_ we get to the good stuff,” he announced with a wicked grin, as Shoshana turned bright red.

“Oh, I forgot about those,” she said, sounding less than thrilled.

“Carnival in Rio,” Damon went on, turning the page. “Nothing on but a mask and a smile. Yowza.” Clearly he had found the ‘intimate portraits’ section, starring Shoshana.

“Oh dear,” she commented at the next one.

“You are _so hot_ ,” Damon declared, turning the book sideways as if viewing a magazine centerfold. “What?” he asked as she buried her face against his shoulder in embarrassment. “It’s not like your body’s gone downhill over the years or something. Seriously, I don’t know how I managed to draw this.”

“There were several interruptions, if I recall,” Shoshana murmured.

Damon looked over the top of the book at Elena. “Hey, if you want a nude portrait, now’s the time,” he suggested. “Before things get saggy and baggy.”

“What?” she sputtered.

“You know, for Stefan’s birthday or something,” he added innocently.

“If Stefan wants a naked picture of me he can just take one with a camera,” Elena decided, which definitely captured Stefan’s attention.

Damon flicked another page in the sketchbook. “Rowr,” he judged, glancing between the drawing and the real thing with a speculative glint in his eye.

“Let’s look at your ads from Japan, they’re very sexy,” Shoshana decided eagerly, reaching for the box. “This one’s my favorite!”

Damon was easily swayed to look at sexy photos of himself. “That _is_ a good one,” he agreed. “Do you think I look the same in the picture as I do in real life?” Stefan rolled his eyes and tried to find something else he and Elena could be doing. “Accounting for lighting and make-up, of course.”

Shoshana looked thoughtfully between Damon and the glossy picture. For his part he tried to mimic the position he held in the photo, which looked pretty ridiculous on a couch instead of a motorcycle and caused Stefan and Elena to dissolve into snickers. “No, I think it’s different,” Shoshana finally judged, and Damon’s expression became dismayed. “I think you look better in real life,” she went on. “In the picture you look a little bit fake and unnatural.”

Damon stared at her, contemplating this answer, then suddenly dove for her, knocking her down on the couch and kissing her. The sketchbook went flying and landed at Elena’s feet, open to a drawing that Stefan didn’t think she really needed to see. So _he_ knocked _her_ down on their couch as well—more gently, of course. Elena was laughing too much for him to kiss her properly, though, and when Stefan looked up he saw that Damon and Shoshana had disappeared.

“So,” he began, propping himself up on one elbow beside her on the couch, “what do you want to do for the rest of the day?” He had a feeling Damon and Shoshana would be otherwise occupied.

 

Stefan knocked softly on the bedroom door, then opened it and peered around into the room. Damon and Shoshana were curled up in the middle of his ridiculously huge, custom-made bed, quiet for the time being, and Damon beckoned his brother over. “Here for a quickie?” he whispered obnoxiously as Stefan climbed across the mattress to them. Shoshana didn’t stir from her slumber.

“A quick _bite_ ,” Stefan corrected. “But she’s asleep, so…”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Damon picked up one of Shoshana’s limp arms and held it out to Stefan. “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. You need your strength so you can concentrate at school today,” he added with mock earnestness.

Stefan hesitated and Damon waggled her arm temptingly. Shoshana made a little noise of displeasure and Damon quickly tucked the blankets around the rest of her to keep out drafts. “I’m not sure if…”

“Will you quit being such a p---y?” Damon chided. “You know she wouldn’t mind and it couldn’t hurt you anyway.” Stefan gave in and took her arm, sinking his fangs into her wrist. Damon watched intently, the scent of the blood so nearby enticing even though he’d just eaten during the night. “You should make this a regular thing,” he said, needing to say _something_ to distract himself. “Breakfast and dinner, every day. That would be good.”

Stefan forced himself to pull away from her vein, licking up the blood that dripped down her arm. It was a smaller feed than usual—it’d been less than twenty-four hours since his last one. If Shoshana was going to be feeding the two of them, it was better to eat a little but more often, so she could regenerate in between. Stefan hated to think of her that way; but it was true that her power had allowed him to help defeat their attackers the other night, to protect Elena; and as he’d told them before, Damon didn’t need to hurt random, innocent humans for food anymore. And Shoshana really seemed happy to do it…

But he wouldn’t be Stefan if he didn’t worry about it a little bit.

“You should stay home from school today,” Damon suggested, and Stefan realized he was still nibbling on Shoshana’s arm even though the blood was gone.

“I want to see Elena,” he decided firmly, tucking Shoshana’s arm carefully under the covers.

“She can stay home, too.”

“I don’t think it’s going to be like that,” Stefan told him, leaning back against the headboard. Elena was waiting for him to pick her up and take her to school; but it was early yet, and he needed to let his head clear a little first.

“It _could_ be,” Damon insisted, barely remembering to be quiet. Fortunately Shoshana was able to sleep through many interruptions, a necessary skill when living with Damon. “We don’t have to stay here. The four of us could go to New York or San Francisco, Europe, Japan… Australia, maybe. New Zealand. Anywhere, really.”

“With Shoshana as our own private buffet?” Stefan asked dryly. The girl shifted under the covers, curling up closer to him, drawn by the warmth the fresh blood and his morning coffee had given him. Stefan pressed the blanket down against her bare back so she wouldn’t get chilled.

“Why not?” Damon asked boldly. “We’ve done it before, we know it would work. Shoshana would _love_ to have Elena around, you know how lonely she gets.”

“Elena _is_ around. Here,” Stefan pointed out. “And Bonnie and Caroline and her other friends. If she stays here she doesn’t have to be lonely.” He gave his brother a long look. “Are you thinking of leaving?”

Damon played with a strand of Shoshana’s hair and didn’t answer right away. “We can go anywhere we want in the world,” he repeated instead. “Not just anywhere money can take us, but places humans just can’t get to, that are too remote or dangerous or…” Stefan waited patiently for his point. “So why do we keep coming back here?”

“It’s home,” was the first thing that came to Stefan’s mind, but Damon shook his head.

“Home is an overgrown pile of rubble in the woods,” he countered. “And even then, after all this time, with everyone we ever knew dead and all the places we used to go built over with gas stations and coffee shops… It’s nothing like home. So why do we keep coming back?” Stefan gazed at him thoughtfully, in no rush to formulate an answer. “Are we… _stuck_? In the past?”

“Well yeah,” Stefan replied, as if this should’ve been the most obvious thing in the world. That time with Katherine in 1864, those moments when they had watched each other die and come back to life, when they had made their choices to hold on to this unnatural immortal existence—it had changed everything, seared itself into their souls, heightened every emotion they felt until irritation became hatred and attraction, obsession. Of course they constantly looked back to that, and to the increasingly blurry time before it when everything seemed simpler.

Damon didn’t seem to like this answer, however, and Stefan struggled to find another. “It grounds us to be here,” he tried. “This is the only place that reminds us we used to be human, where that fact is inescapable.”

Damon flopped onto his back on the bed with a sigh; Shoshana merely burrowed under the pillows. “For you, maybe,” he told Stefan. “I don’t care about being human. I don’t want to be grounded.” For once he sounded not snide but matter-of-fact. “Are you sad that you didn’t get married, become a doctor, have children, maybe grandchildren?” he went on, staring up at the ceiling. “Like your friends did.”

“It’s… difficult to say,” Stefan answered, unhelpful but honest. “There wasn’t anyone I _wanted_ to marry, well—“ Except for Katherine, which he believed was only the effect of her compulsion. Damon knew what he meant. “A lot of my friends were gone… I don’t know how long I would’ve stayed in Mystic Falls. It’s ironic that I feel more tied to it now than I did then.”

“You would’ve gone North,” Damon predicted. “Or you would’ve been a starving doctor in the South, because no whites would come to you and the blacks couldn’t pay.” There were ways Stefan could have legitimately escaped military service as he’d gotten older; but the motivations behind it—pacifism in general, and disagreement with the institution the war was being fought for—weren’t quite the fashion in the 1860’s. No matter how the war ended, locals would remember he hadn’t fought and would hold it against him.

“Would you really have married Lydia Dawes?” Stefan asked with a small smirk, still trying to figure out what had prompted this melancholy from his usually non-introspective brother.

“G-d, I hope not,” Damon sighed, rubbing his face. “It would’ve been awful. We would’ve made each other miserable.” He stopped abruptly and turned to gaze at what little of Shoshana he could still see beneath the blankets.

Stefan couldn’t honestly say Damon and Shoshana hadn’t made each other miserable. But he did know there was more to their relationship than just that. Damon and Lydia Dawes, not so much. “I’m glad you found her,” he said simply, indicating Shoshana.

“I’m glad you found Elena,” Damon admitted, rolling back onto his side to face Stefan. “But we have to find a way to keep her.”

Now Stefan sighed and looked away. He wasn’t having this conversation again. At least not so soon. “I have to get to school,” he decided, sliding off the bed. “Tell Shoshana thanks for me.” At the doorway he turned back around. “I don’t think _stuck_ is the right word,” he decided. “We _do_ go to new places, learn new things… love new people. Maybe we keep coming back here so we can… see how far we’ve come,” he suggested. Damon gave him an inscrutable look and Stefan slipped away.

 

Shoshana awoke to the familiar sensation of someone nuzzling the back of her neck and she smiled, stretching lazily in Damon’s arms. She loved waking up in bed with him, knowing they could spend all day there if they wanted—and if they chose to get up, there was a whole house full of things they could do that she enjoyed. Maybe not a whole _town_ , or a whole _world_ , but—that would happen again someday, she was sure of it.

“I’m starving,” she commented, nonetheless wrapping his arms around her more. Okay, so they couldn’t _literally_ stay in bed all day. Unless there were some granola bars in the nightstand…

“I could go make you some—“

“French toast?” she asked hopefully.

Damon grimaced behind her, having been thinking more along the lines of Pop-Tarts. He didn’t mind _feeding_ Shoshana—she fed _him_ , so it only seemed fair—but he really didn’t like cooking all the time. Something special once in a while, sure, but he might as well be making mud pies for all he could appreciate the taste or even smell of his efforts.

He imagined telling her this, and he imagined her expression in response. “How about hashbrowns?” he asked instead. “With eggs and cheese over the top.”

“Yum!” she approved, and he waited for this to make him feel better. “Oh, I wanted to talk to you about something,” she went on, less brightly.

“That sounds serious,” Damon observed. “We should have sex first.”

“We just _did_ ,” Shoshana reminded him with a giggle, rolling over to face him.

“That was hours ago,” he claimed, leaning down to kiss her. “A couple, anyway…”

Shoshana refused to be distracted, though she didn’t mind him trying. “Was Stefan here before?” she asked in confusion when Damon let her up for air.

“Mm-hmm. He came to get breakfast before going to school,” Damon replied. He pulled back slightly to look at her. “Do you mind?”

“No,” she assured him. “I like feeding people. _Nice_ people,” she qualified and he chuckled against her throat.

“Maybe you should stop feeding Elena so much, she’s getting pudgy,” he teased.

Shoshana gasped in horror, though whether at the insult or the idea of not feeding her friend was uncertain. “She’s _not_ getting ‘pudgy,’” she countered. “She doesn’t look any different to me!”

“Please, like you’d even notice if she ballooned up like, uh…” Damon lifted his head above the blankets, trying to think of a clever ending, and Shoshana laughed. “…like a big balloon thing,” he decided, deliberately awkward.

“My question about yesterday,” she restated, a bit breathlessly, as she tried to keep them on track.

Damon rolled his eyes. “Look, Stefan _said_ he would take care of the uniform,” he reminded her. He still didn’t see what the big deal was—Stefan kept mementos from his travels all the time. At least he hadn’t worn it for Halloween.

“That’s _not_ what I was thinking of,” Shoshana revealed, pushing him back slightly. “But thanks for bringing it up, it’s a good mood-setter.”

Damon rolled his eyes and propped himself up on one elbow beside her. “Hey, how ‘bout those hashbrowns, huh?” he tried. “Cheese and eggs. And toast and fruit.”

He saw the moral dilemma on her face, but unfortunately the food did not win out (yet). “Elena was upset yesterday,” she pointed out, tapping his chest in an accusatory way. “When she was making lunch. Helping _you_ make lunch,” she amended.

“Oh. That.” He grabbed Shoshana’s hand and kissed her fingers, mulling over his explanation choices. “I think she was upset because I almost kissed her,” he decided to say.

“Well that would be upsetting,” Shoshana replied dryly, but without ire. She gave him a little punch in the shoulder, which affected his position only because he let it. “What would you try that for?” she asked as he rolled onto his back, taking her with him. “You know she wouldn’t like it.”

“I don’t know that she wouldn’t _like_ it,” Damon countered, vaguely insulted, as Shoshana situated herself above him. “I think she would like it a lot, in fact.” Shoshana laughed rather heartlessly at his display of ego. “You wouldn’t mind, would you?” he checked, sliding his hands up to her waist. “If I kissed Elena?”

“Well, not if Elena and Stefan were okay with it,” Shoshana agreed, which was what he’d suspected.

“Stefan’s okay with it,” Damon judged. Though that still left one key person ambiguous. “Mostly she was upset because she was scared during the attack,” he added off-hand.

Shoshana sobered suddenly. “I told her I would protect her,” she insisted.

Damon tried not to laugh but had to at least let out a smirk. “I can’t imagine why that didn’t inspire her immediate confidence.” Shoshana gave him a narrow look and he hastened to placate her. “I mean, of course you _did_ protect her, but really, come on now, on the surface…” He could see he wasn’t going to be let off the hook. “Well anyway, she was upset because _she_ wanted to protect people, not just sit around waiting to be rescued.”

“Well I don’t see what’s wrong with _that_ ,” Shoshana decided. “She does lots of other nice things for people, why shouldn’t she let them rescue her from attacking vampires?”

Damon grinned. “It’s that pre-feminist mindset that I love about you,” he declared.

“I don’t know if that’s meant to be funny or not,” Shoshana admitted to him. “Considering that I disintegrated a vampire personally, and that you use _my_ blood to defeat others, I feel I’m contributing fully on that front.”

Damon grinned again, but it was a different sort of smile than before, one that appreciated Shoshana’s complexities and contradictions—his own little puzzle to figure out. Unexpectedly he tipped her sideways onto the bed again, enjoying her not-very-terrified squeal of surprise. “You’d like Elena to stay with us, wouldn’t you?” he suggested leadingly, his fingertips drifting over her face and neck. “Forever.”

He saw the answer on her face—a resounding yes. “Not if it made her unhappy,” she said instead.

“Why would she be unhappy? She could have everything she’s ever wanted,” he insisted.

“No one can have _everything_ ,” Shoshana corrected.

“Fine,” he conceded, without necessarily agreeing. “Almost everything. You’d like her to be with us, wouldn’t you? Me, you, Stefan, Elena.”

“It would be nice,” Shoshana admitted. “I guess she’d have to become a vampire, then. Oh,” she added suddenly, “if she were a vampire she could help you two fight _other_ vampires!”

“Hmm, well _there’s_ a thought,” Damon responded, trying to curb the sarcasm a bit. That wasn’t really his point, anyway. “Do you think we’re stuck in the past?” he went on, as this was of more interest to him.

“Where else would you be stuck?” she asked, in a tone that implied she thought his question a bit silly. “You can’t be stuck in future because it hasn’t happened yet, and the present is always changing so you can’t be stuck _there_ , either.”

Damon blinked at her. “Sometimes talking to you is very challenging,” he finally responded, with considerable restraint.

“I know,” she agreed, patting his hand comfortingly. “Do you want me to say it again, only slower?”

“No, that’s okay,” he assured her. “I’d just rather not be stuck _anywhere_.”

“Oh.” She gave this some thought. “Well, everyone’s defined by their past experiences, even humans. But you’re not living in the woods in the ruins of the farm house trying to keep black people as slaves, so I think you’ve made progress.”

“Wow… Thanks,” he decided dubiously. Then he frowned. “Were you awake when Stefan and I were talking this morning?”

“I don’t think so,” she told him. “Maybe a little. Why?”

“No reason.” He pushed himself out from under the covers. “You want those hashbrowns now?”

“YES,” she declared with enthusiasm.


	18. Chapter 18

Stefan didn’t find it as difficult to admit when Damon was right as vice versa; but then again he had less practice at it. But a few days of regular, twice-daily feedings evened out his responses considerably, making him feel more like himself again (only better). And it was easier to discreetly slip away for a few minutes at breakfast and dinner when both he and Shoshana came back looking and acting normal, than when Stefan was slightly hyperactive and Shoshana in need of a nap. Of course Damon mocked him for wanting to be discreet when it was only Elena around, and she was all for him being stronger when it didn’t hurt anyone; but that was just how Stefan was. The lightness in his mood remained, though, and Elena seemed to appreciate that as well.

Shoshana’s blood had not only given him strength and speed but also heightened his senses to the point that sometimes Stefan was no longer aware of _how_ he knew things, he just _did_ —and when he and Elena walked into the house after school he knew something was _wrong_ and tensed immediately. Elena froze behind him, reading his body language and feeling her heartbeat spike with disorienting strength. _Not again, not again_ , she thought involuntarily. The idea of another vampire attack had been haunting her dreams lately.

Keeping her close to him Stefan padded into the living room, his footfalls silent to Elena’s ears. There was broken glass on the hardwood floor, though where it came from wasn’t obvious; but surely Shoshana or Damon would’ve cleaned it up if they’d been able. Elena’s blood ran cold and she nearly screamed when Stefan suddenly wrapped his arm around her and whooshed them out to the backyard. There, in the remains of what had once been a slightly unkempt brick patio, was Damon, surrounded by hastily removed and broken bricks, digging a hole in the ground. Alone.

He glanced up to acknowledge Stefan and Elena but said nothing, merely grimly shoveling up more dirt and tossing it into a haphazard pile. Stefan watched him for a moment, until his observations yielded no deductions. “What are you _doing_?” he finally asked, irritated about the fear Damon had generated—not to mention the patio he’d destroyed.

“I’m digging the new swimming pool,” he announced. He seemed serious.

Stefan ignored the fact that they hadn’t actually _agreed_ to get a swimming pool. “Where’s Shoshana?” he asked instead.

“Probably up in her room, crying,” Damon revealed, viciously spading the earth before him.

Stefan sighed, wondering what kind of mess they’d walked into today—things had been going so well between Damon and Shoshana lately. Maybe _too_ well. He glanced at Elena. “I’ll go check on Shoshana,” she offered immediately, since it seemed the only marauding vampire in the area was Damon.

“Thank you,” Stefan told her, trying to convey more with just the two words—an apology for his irresponsible brother scaring her, for example. When she left he turned back to Damon expectantly. “Well?” Stefan prompted, when he merely continued to dig.

“No, swimming pool,” Damon corrected, unable to muster much enthusiasm for the pun.

“Damon. Stop digging—“ Stefan stepped over and tried to put his hand on the shovel to stop its motion, but Damon lifted a heavy pile of clay at the same time and ended up knocking Stefan to the ground instead.

This at least got his attention. “Sorry,” he said dully, offering his brother a hand up. Instead Stefan pulled him down to the ground as well. “Ouch,” Damon complained as he sat back up, though it couldn’t possibly have hurt him.

“What’s going on?” Stefan asked again, trying to put a little more compassion in his tone.

Damon sighed and aimlessly picked at some dirt crusted on his jeans. There was a fine coating of dust over everything from the helpless bricks he’d pulverized, and the recent rains meant the soil was still soft and damp, leading to streaks of mud across Damon’s clothes and face. It wasn’t the first time he’d gotten dirty outside lately, but usually Stefan was with him and they were doing something fun. Stefan softened up a little as he remembered this and nudged Damon’s arm in a brotherly way to prompt him again.

“Did you hear, the girls are planning some big girl-trip this weekend,” Damon began, with false brightness.

“I heard,” Stefan agreed patiently. “Movie, shopping, spa.”

“I told Shoshana she could go.”

“I know.”

“Today I told her she _couldn’t_ go.”

“Ah,” replied Stefan, as things became suddenly more clear. “I guess she didn’t take it well.”

“No, there was yelling, and crying, and breaking things,” Damon admitted.

“ _Shoshana_ broke something?” Stefan asked skeptically.

“No, _I_ did that,” Damon clarified. “And _she_ cried, and we both yelled.”

“Why did you change your mind?”

“It’s too dangerous,” Damon said immediately. “After the attack here, and Katherine finding her at the mall—there’s something else coming and I don’t want her away from me.”

Stefan nodded in understanding. “I was really surprised when you said yes,” he admitted. “I kind of wish Elena wasn’t going, but…” They didn’t exactly have the kind of relationship where he could forbid her to do things—nor did he want that.

“She really wanted to go,” Damon reminded him, staring at a blade of grass he was ripping apart. “She was so excited about going. And after I said yes I just kept thinking about it, it was such a stupid thing to let her do right now… So today I told her I changed my mind.”

“You told her why?”

“Well, I _tried_ ,” Damon insisted, “but she just… and then I…” He shrugged and lapsed into silence. Stefan could imagine how the conversation had quickly spiraled out of control. “Your stupid f-----g advice,” he snapped suddenly.

“What?” asked Stefan in surprise.

“’Be nice but not _too_ nice,’” Damon repeated derisively.

“It’s a safety issue,” Stefan tried to point out without getting defensive himself. “Maybe if you’d said no right away—“ Well, that wasn’t fair, really. “I think you did the right thing,” he finally offered.

“Well so f-----g what?” Damon snapped. “I don’t even understand what this ‘right thing’ _is_. The ‘right thing’ _hurts_ , it hurts like h—l and I don’t want to—“ He broke off for a moment, biting his lower lip to regain his composure. “You didn’t see her face,” he told Stefan quietly. “Like I was just—crushing everything—“ He started to draw his knees up under his chin then rejected the position self-consciously, instead kicking at a loose brick and sending it skipping across the yard.

Stefan started to put a hand on his shoulder. “Damon—“

“I can’t do it,” he spat.

“What?”

“I know she hasn’t been here very long,” he continued hurriedly, as though trying to get the words out before he couldn’t anymore. “Usually we go for a few years, but—I’m looking ahead and all I see is more of _this_ , more of me telling her _no_ and her being miserable, and it just hurts _too d—n much_ and I don’t want to—“ Stefan stared at his brother in shock, hardly believing what he was hearing. “Take her to the train station, give her some money, tell her she’s lucky to get away. Just like before.”

Damon gazed off to the side, eyes not really seeing anything in front of them. “What about Katherine?” Stefan asked, mind reeling.

“We’ll get her somehow,” Damon decided vaguely. “The power will take a while to fade after…” He cleared his throat. “We’ll get her.” He sounded like he didn’t really care much about that right now, and Stefan couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not.

But he did know that _he_ was angry. “No,” he said with finality, and Damon turned to him sharply, his eyes going from damp to dangerous in an instant. “No. Don’t be such a coward.”

“ _What?_ ” Damon demanded. Not that he cared about being called a coward; but it was unlike Stefan to say it.

“It hurts to love people, you idiot,” Stefan told him, enunciating clearly as his brother obviously wasn’t getting it. “When you hurt someone you love, or you see them get hurt, it hurts _you_. That’s how you know you love them. Is it _really_ possible you don’t understand that?”

“Yeah, I understand that, thanks, Professor,” Damon shot back acidly. “I just don’t _want_ it.”

“Well, if you don’t want the pain, you don’t get the love,” Stefan reminded him.

“Well _finally_ we’re on the same page,” Damon replied. “So are you gonna take her, or do you want me to torture her so much that she leaves herself?”

“You can’t just put your love on a train and have it turn off as soon as it’s out of sight,” Stefan tried to tell him.

“Yes, I can. I’ve done it before.”

“I don’t know _what_ you’ve done before,” Stefan snapped, “because as soon as Shoshana left, I did, too. Because you get so depressed you turn into a monster. It’s unbearable.”

“Well some people would say I’m like that already,” Damon replied, and Stefan rolled his eyes without subtlety.

“My G-d, she’s not even gone yet and you’re starting on the self-pity,” he pointed out. “You’re so pathetic. You and Shoshana could be happy together if you would try not to be a selfish jacka-s.”

Damon gaped at him. “You said telling her _no_ was the right thing!”

“You should’ve told her _no_ from the start!” Stefan countered, no longer caring whether that was fair or not. “But you were afraid that would make her unhappy so you caved. And then you had to go back and tell her _no_ later, which is just s----y.”

Damon gave him a hard look. “If this is your way of making people feeling better, I don’t understand how you get all the girls,” he sputtered.

Stefan sighed. “The good things about love are supposed to outweigh the bad,” he finally stated.

“But they don’t,” Damon insisted dolefully.

“That’s only because you’re a pessimistic drama queen with self-esteem issues.”

“I just have an artistic temperament!” Damon replied defensively.

“Who told you _that_?” Stefan scoffed.

“Well, Shoshana.”

“Oh. Well, maybe you’d rather hang out with _her_ , then,” Stefan shot back sarcastically.

“I—“ Damon stopped and blinked at him. “Oh, I see what you did there,” he accused. “Kind of a long setup, don’t you think?” Stefan shrugged, waiting to see if it had worked first. “You’re the mopey, brooding boy,” Damon decided, letting himself be momentarily sidetracked. “Why isn’t this conversation entirely reversed?”

“You’re too cynical,” Stefan began to list. “You would find my pain amusing.” Damon had to agree. “And if Elena and I were ever on the outs you would try to steal her for yourself.”

“I would only be keeping her warm for you,” Damon protested innocently.

“Clearly I’m the better person to lecture you on the delights of love,” Stefan concluded dryly, “because I eat rainbows and s—t marshmallows.”

Damon let out a hiccup of laughter. “I can’t believe Shoshana told you that!”

“Shoshana told Elena,” Stefan corrected.

“G-d, those girls are such gossips,” Damon observed. “Elena told Shoshana about me chewing on the carrot.” They were quiet for a long moment. “I don’t like feeling this way,” he finally said in a more sober tone.

“Then man up and do something about it.”

“I’m digging her a pool!” Damon pointed out. “So she can have pool parties in the summer.”

“After you’ve sent her away?” Stefan asked sardonically.

“Well, I didn’t know how far I’d get before you came home and stopped me.”

Stefan rolled his eyes. “And how is this redemptive project going?”

Damon grimaced. “There’s _worms_ in the dirt. And centipedes.”

“You could apologize to Shoshana for not telling her _no_ right away,” Stefan suggested, “and explain to her why it’s too dangerous for her to go. Or we could pretend it was the twenty-first century, where you _discussed_ it with her instead of just _telling_ her.”

“You rainbow-eaters are such hippies,” Damon scoffed.

“Sending her away isn’t going to make you feel better,” Stefan reminded him. “It just makes you both feel dead inside.”

“Sometimes that’s better than feeling hurt.”

“But not better than feeling in love.” Stefan squeezed his shoulder. “You take the good with the bad.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Damon accused. “When’s the last time you made Elena cry?”

“She was pretty upset that she might’ve gotten killed by rogue vampires,” Stefan said, going for dryly nonchalant. It came out a little angrier.

“Well man up and do something about that,” Damon replied deliberately. Stefan’s gaze shifted away; he didn’t want to have the ‘vampire Elena’ discussion again. “I think she’d be more receptive to the idea if we modeled better emotional health.”

“’We’?” Stefan repeated understatedly.

“Okay, _you_ ,” Damon specified, and Stefan rolled his eyes. “She says we’re _stuck_.”

“I wondered where you got that from.”

“And you _agreed_ , so that’s not helping.”

“ _You’re_ the one digging a random hole in the backyard,” Stefan pointed out. “Honest to G‑d, I thought you’d killed the postman and were trying to hide the body.”

“You have a pretty dark mind,” Damon assessed. “I’m just digging a _swimming pool_ for my wife, who likes to swim.”

“You’re digging me a swimming pool?” said a soft voice from behind them, and they both turned to see Shoshana standing in the doorway, with Elena watching over her shoulder. Shoshana’s eyes were puffy and her face was blotchy from crying, but Elena gave Stefan an encouraging look.

“Well, yeah,” Damon agreed, scrambling to his feet. “I mean, er, you _want_ a swimming pool, don’t you?” He looked back at the destroyed patio. “It could be something else,” he added optimistically.

“No, I’d like a swimming pool,” she agreed with a residual sniffle.

Damon glanced at Stefan, who gave him a look. “So, um, about this weekend—“

“You’re right, it’s too dangerous for me to go,” Shoshana said quickly.

“I know,” Damon confirmed. This part was not in doubt to him. “I shouldn’t have told you _yes_ at all.”

“Yes, that was upsetting, I really got my hopes up,” Shoshana decided, a bit pointedly.

“But I thought you’d like a swimming pool,” Damon repeated, focusing on the positive. “For summer.” Shoshana nodded, then couldn’t stand it anymore and threw her arms around him. “Careful, you’ll get dirty,” he warned, picking her up anyway.

“That’s okay, I’ll wash,” she assured him. “Oh, you’ve got a worm on your shirt.”

Seeing Damon’s face contort Stefan hurriedly intervened. “Here, I’ll just get that,” he said, gently removing the creature and ducking away so Damon and Shoshana could get back to their moment. He released it in the grass near the house, where he thought it would be safe from his brother’s earth-moving rampage.

When he looked back Damon and Shoshana were kissing, so he assumed they had made up sufficiently. He walked over to Elena and slipped his arm around her, kissing her temple.

She squeezed him back. “Never a dull moment,” she murmured in his ear.

“We should go away for a weekend again,” he suggested, “just the two of us. Someplace quiet. With lots of dull moments.” Elena laughed.

“You know, I heard that,” Damon called over. Shoshana had a hold of the shovel and was attempting to dig with his arms around her, no doubt to see how difficult it was and thus be even more impressed with his efforts.

“What about dinner?” she asked him. “I have to feed Elena!” Elena buried her face against Stefan’s chest.

“Don’t stress so much,” Damon chided her. “Let’s just order pizza tonight.”

“Oh, well, hmm, okay,” she conceded. “With breadsticks and those cinnamon-sugar things?”

“Anything you want,” Damon promised generously. _He_ wouldn’t be eating it anyway. “Stefan can order it,” he delegated. “We have to take a shower.”

“’We’?” Shoshana teased coyly.

“Well, you hugged me and you got all dirty,” he reminded her, nuzzling her ear.

Stefan rolled his eyes and shut the back door on them. “Pizza?” he checked with Elena.

“I’ll start with a salad,” she decided. Keeping up with Shoshana’s feeding issues was starting to change her wardrobe options. “Are they… okay?” she asked him tentatively.

Stefan wished he could say yes unequivocally, but he couldn’t. “I think they’re working on it,” he decided. “Sometimes they need a little reminding about the good things.”

“I’m not very good about that with Shoshana,” Elena confessed. “It’s hard for me to say good things about Damon sometimes.”

Stefan understood that well enough. “You got her to come downstairs,” he pointed out, pulling her into his arms.

“Do you think _I_ shouldn’t go this weekend?” Elena asked him. She could see one answer written on his face; but she wanted to know what he would actually _say_.

“I think you’ll probably be fine,” he finally told her, “but it _does_ make me a little nervous.” She smiled and stretched up to kiss him—without changing her mind about the outing.

 

Elena knocked on the door to Shoshana’s room and entered when she heard the other girl call. “Oh, that looks really cute,” she assured her.

“You think? I don’t know,” Shoshana said dubiously. “I wanted something with sleeves…” She fussed with the detachable skirt of her swimsuit. “And I can’t remember how this was supposed to work. Can you help me?”

“Of course,” Elena replied, crossing the room. Shoshana loved to swim, but her preference for modest clothing made swimsuit shopping a little challenging these days. They had finally settled on a high-necked tankini with a skirt for additional coverage, though naturally Damon balked. Elena went with a style a bit more conservative than usual as well, partly in solidarity but partly because all the food Shoshana had made for her was, she felt, beginning to show. (Stefan claimed it wasn’t, but then, he would.)

“Okay, I think you have to put the opening over here,” Elena remembered, adjusting the skirt around Shoshana, “and then tie it—What’s that?” she couldn’t help but interrupt suddenly.

“What?” asked Shoshana curiously.

“On your leg, there’s—“ Elena knelt on the floor, looking at the mark on Shoshana’s upper thigh, the skin puckered and slightly red.

“Oh. That’s a scar,” she answered uncomfortably.

“From what?” Elena persisted. “I thought all your injuries healed without a trace.” She didn’t mean to be nosy, but, well, in some ways they were past that stage—and Elena didn’t like being surprised by new twists on her abilities.

“Well, they do _now_ ,” Shoshana clarified. “But not from… when I died.”

Elena stared up at her awkward expression. “It’s a bite mark,” she realized suddenly, recognizing the double curves of teeth now. “From when Damon first attacked you.”

“I don’t even remember it’s there, it doesn’t hurt or anything,” Shoshana insisted.

Elena _knew_ Damon had killed Shoshana at one point in time, strange as that sounded. Her flesh was warm, her heart still beat, she ate and slept, so it was more difficult to keep this fact in mind than it was with Stefan or Damon, whose physiological processes had changed in certain ways from their human days. But Shoshana had made a transition, too, from being a normal human being who grew and changed to being fixed in one appearance forever—and it had happened when Damon had taken enough of her blood to kill the normal human. Seeing the teeth marks embedded in her flesh made it seem suddenly real to Elena—and enraged her.

At that moment Damon popped into the room without knocking and froze when he saw the girls. “Please continue with what you were doing,” he requested. “I’ll just watch quietly.”

Elena stood angrily, in no mood for his jokes. “I was looking at her _scar_ ,” she told him, her tone accusatory.

Damon’s eyes shifted to Shoshana, who gave him an apologetic look and then busied herself tying her skirt. “Oh really,” he remarked warily. “Well—odd that it persisted, huh?” He wasn’t really sure what she expected him to say.

Elena wasn’t really sure, either. But she gave him a look of disgust and pushed past him. “Caroline and Matt are here,” she announced, seeing the car pull up out front.

“I bite people, what do you want?” he called after her, as if it were no big deal. “Am I supposed to use a straw or something?” Elena ignored him and went downstairs.

“Sorry,” Shoshana told him, putting her arms around him. “She saw it on accident.”

“It’s okay,” he shrugged. He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Did you say anything about Stefan? Did she see the other one?” Shoshana shook her head at both questions. “Well don’t worry about it, then,” he decided. “Come on, let’s get this party started.” He gave her rear end a playful smack—timed to coincide with Matt and Caroline’s appearance in the living room below—and followed her downstairs.

Once everyone had been moved outside to the backyard, Shoshana began passing out the refreshments. “Here you go!” she said, handing Bonnie a fruit smoothie in a fancy glass. Bonnie settled into a lawn chair on one of the few level spots left after the destruction of the brick patio, next to three other chairs for Caroline, Elena, and Shoshana.

“Is this a strawberry daiquiri?” Caroline asked hopefully as Shoshana gave her a glass as well.

“It has strawberries, bananas, pineapple, and ginger ale for sparkle,” Shoshana replied, sitting down in her own chair. “And for later I have a queso-artichoke dip, vegetarian taquitos, and cinnamon churros!”

“That’s it?” Damon asked rudely.

“Er, well—“

“That’s fine, it’s plenty,” several people insisted defiantly.

“Well, if we’re done talking about the food, let’s get down to business,” Damon announced. He, Stefan, Matt, and Jeremy all stood in the remains of the backyard, each having been issued a shovel. “We are here to dig a pool.”

“Seriously?” Jeremy asked dubiously.

Damon blinked at him as if he were slow. “Yes. As you see, we have a backyard, and shovels, and the outline of a swimming pool in string.” He indicated the white string pegged at ankle-height in front of them. “The missus has decided she wants a kidney bean shape, so dig within the lines.”

Matt’s expression suggested he foresaw some difficulty here. “Have you ever put in a pool before?” he asked politely.

Stefan saw where this was headed and moved to block his brother. “No, he hasn’t,” he answered for Damon. “Have you?”

Matt shrugged modestly. “A couple summers ago I worked for my uncle’s construction company. I helped with some pool installations.”

“And you didn’t want me to invite Ken and Barbie,” Damon scoffed at Stefan, who rolled his eyes.

“Excuse me, honey?” Shoshana interrupted from her lawn chair. “Could you be having this conversation with your shirt off?”

“Absolutely, my little beach bunny,” he replied seriously, handing his shovel to Stefan and yanking his t-shirt off over his head. He tossed it aside then took back his shovel _and_ Stefan’s, indicating his brother should remove his shirt as well. With a sigh Stefan did so. The girls exchanged anticipatory looks behind them.

Damon stared expectantly at Matt and Jeremy. “Do you two have body image issues or something?” he inquired obnoxiously.

“They don’t have to take their shirts off,” Stefan countered quickly.

“Yes, they do,” Damon insisted. “It was explicitly stated in the invitation. Also the girls are contractually obligated to announce when they’re putting sunscreen on each other.”

“Really?” Stefan said faintly, making a mental note to hack into Damon’s eVite account so he could edit future invitations.

“Really,” Jeremy agreed dryly, but he and Matt took their shirts off without protest.

“Mmm-hmmm,” said an unidentified girl behind them, as the other girls giggled.

“So, any tips on building the pool?” Stefan asked Matt, trying to get them back on track.

“Yeah, hire a professional,” was his quick reply.

Damon did not care for this. “Please. How hard can it be?”

Matt leaned on his shovel and tried not to be confrontational—it wasn’t really his forte anyway. “Okay. What happens after the hole is dug?”

But Damon was not stumped. “That’s when the cement comes in. I’m looking forward to driving the truck with the spinning barrel on the back.”

“Those are so fun,” Shoshana agreed.

Stefan gave Matt a look that reminded him he had to live with this every day and Matt tried to be patient. “Okay. What about plumbing? Reinforcements? Do you have the permit already?”

The answers were clear on Damon’s face. “Do I need those things?” he questioned obliviously.

Stefan glared at him in irritation. “You said you knew what you were doing!”

Damon blinked at him. “Why would you believe me when I said that?”

“He makes a good point,” Elena noted dryly.

“This was your plan?” Jeremy asked with a laugh. “Really?”

“Well, yeah,” Damon responded. “Dig a really big hole… and wait for Stefan to come along and straighten it out.”

“That is so true it’s not even funny,” Stefan declared as Elena coughed behind him. He turned to Matt, designating him the new pool expert. “Is there any point in us digging?”

“Hey, we were promised a show,” Bonnie pointed out, enjoying the view through her sunglasses, which helpfully disguised _which_ view she was enjoying at the moment.

“That’s right, we were,” Caroline agreed saucily.

“Sure, we can dig,” Matt answered with a shrug, refusing to acknowledge the girls. “We should probably dig a rectangle that’s bigger than the pool you want. Makes it easier to set up moulds for custom shapes, or lower a pre-cast pool into place. Then you add the plumbing and just backfill around it.”

Stefan nodded along as this plan made sense to him. “Digging a rectangle is boring,” Damon decided, which was obviously a more important consideration.

“You said I could have a kidney bean-shaped pool!” Shoshana chided him. Obviously _she_ didn’t find Matt’s explanation sensible, either. “They’re so elegant. And I want a hot tub in the curve!”

“Don’t blame _me_ ,” Damon told her. “Blame Mr. Know-It-All over there.” He nodded towards Matt.

Matt was a straightforward kind of guy; he had happily signed up for manual labor as a social occasion, but he wasn’t prepared to suddenly lead an entire (expensive) landscaping project. Especially not with Damon, who—though cool in some ways—was a little high-strung and definitely shady. Although Caroline had not revealed many of the particulars of her relationship with Damon to him, he understood the overall negative tenor and that alone made him a little more reticent than usual. He started to back away from his earlier stance. “Look, it’s your yard, whatever you—“

“No, no, you’re right,” Stefan insisted. “Please ignore him”—Damon—“he has no idea what to do.”

Damon grinned broadly, luckily in a good mood today. “You have to admit, it’s a very well-done kidney bean,” he noted wryly.

“It’s a beautiful kidney bean,” Shoshana avowed, a bit wistfully. “It’s just how I wanted it!”

“Well, we’ll make them do a custom shape,” Damon promised her. “So are we going to do some digging,” he asked the others impatiently, “or are we just going to stand here talking until the earth erodes from under our feet?”

Stefan glanced at Matt and Jeremy. “Sure, let’s do it,” he decided, and stuck his shovel into the ground Damon had already started excavating. There were immediate catcalls from the feminine audience, which the boys tried to ignore with dignity.

“So we’re just going to dig up all this dirt?” Jeremy checked, sounding like he found this a dubious goal.

“Like a dog,” Stefan muttered.

“Lookin’ for a bone,” Damon added suggestively, leering at Shoshana.

 

The early morning was quiet and pleasantly crisp, with the bright sunshine pouring in through the window in a heartening, rather than scolding, manner, and Elena was content to lay in Stefan’s arms and tell herself to remember this peaceful, relaxed feeling, because some days it was in short supply.

As if sensing a calm pocket and feeling a desperate need to stir it up, Damon walked into the bedroom without knocking. Elena immediately dove beneath the covers, partly looking for discarded clothing to put back on and partly just hiding from their own personal little dark storm cloud.

“Damon, what the—Get out,” Stefan told him indignantly, adjusting the blankets to cover them.

“Don’t be such a prude,” Damon sneered. He stuck his head into Stefan’s bathroom, then his closet. “I’m looking for Shoshana. Have you seen her?” He considered the lump under the blankets meaningfully.

“No,” Stefan informed him shortly, since his brother seemed more annoyed than frantic. “Remember that talk we had about ‘boundaries’?”

“No,” Damon denied. He looked under the bed and pulled out something that Stefan snatched away from him. “The pool guys are coming today and I want to make sure she doesn’t fall in while pestering them.”

“Why would you think she’s in here?” Stefan asked with a sigh, hoping he could get rid of him before Elena suffocated under the covers.

Damon crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall—a position that suggested he was content to hang around and chat. “Well, a while ago I heard Elena make a new sound”—Stefan buried his face in his hands helplessly—“and I thought maybe you’d gotten a new playmate. Gotta say, I was a little hurt you didn’t let me know.”

Explanation was clearly useless here. But that didn’t stop Stefan’s attempt. “We didn’t--“ Elena took a more direct route and made a noise of frustration from beneath the blankets.

“Kinda sounded like that,” Damon claimed with amusement. “Is Shoshana under there?”

Stefan smacked away Damon’s questing hand. “That’s the, ‘I wish I could stab my boyfriend’s brother through the heart, but apparently that doesn’t work anymore’ sound,” he translated with annoyance.

“You two talk about me when I’m not here?” Damon misinterpreted willfully. “That’s a step.”

“Get. Out. Now.”

And he might have, except that right then, Shoshana came _in_. They were well-matched in their poor timing, at least. “Well _here’s_ everyone!” she said brightly as Elena finally breached the surface of the blankets to taste fresh air, having found a camisole to put on.

“Where’ve you been?” Damon demanded of Shoshana.

“In the basement,” she told him. “I was looking for—“

He didn’t really care. “You _know_ I can’t smell you as well in the basement!”

She gave him a narrow look and decided to ignore his remark, since there were unhugged people in the room. “Good morning, Elena!” she declared, bounding over to the bed to throw her arms around the other girl in greeting. “Good morning, Stefan!” she went on, scrambling up onto the mattress to reach him. “Aren’t you two warm and cozy,” she added, settling down between them.

“Boundaries!” Damon told her obnoxiously, and her face fell.

“Oh, you’re right,” she agreed with disappointment, starting to scoot away. “I shouldn’t—“

As if on cue Stefan and Elena sighed and stopped her from leaving. “No, you’re okay,” she was assured.

“I’m sensing a double standard here,” Damon observed sardonically at their predictable reaction.

“ _Shoshana_ means well,” Stefan replied pointedly.

“Elena, do you want me to make you some breakfast?” Shoshana questioned the other girl eagerly. “I could make you some toast with peanut butter and honey and bananas and coconut and sesame seeds.”

“I think I’ll just have some cereal,” Elena demurred.

“Oh.” Another look of disappointment crossed Shoshana’s face, along with—in Damon’s opinion—a cunning determination to make Elena eat something more elaborate.

“Don’t be so sure,” he cracked in response to Stefan. Then he zipped over to appear on the bed at his brother’s side. “Let’s put it to a vote,” he declared as Stefan found himself trapped between him and Shoshana. “Supervise the pool installation, or _ménage à quatre_?” He waggled his eyebrows at Elena, his vote obvious.

“Oh, I want to see them put the pool in!” Shoshana decided excitedly, upending everyone by scrambling back out of bed. She was out the door before Damon could say a word.

Stefan looked over at him. “I think you’re outvoted,” he said dryly.

“Well—“ Damon glanced over at Elena. “ _Ménage à_ _trois_?” he suggested, a bit desperately. She flung the blankets back over her head in response. Stefan shrugged innocently as if to say, _What can you do?_ “Fine,” Damon agreed gracelessly, standing and sauntering towards the door. “Shoshana!” he was shouting as he exited. “Stay away from the backyard! Remember what happened last time!”

Stefan zipped over to shut the door and lock it, then whooshed back to bed. “You can come out now,” he told Elena, delicately handing her a pair of panties. He decided she _didn’t_ need to know Damon had found them under the bed just now.


	19. Chapter 19

The crash of the large stained-glass window shattering was suitably loud and terror-inspiring. Elena felt her adrenaline spike, like an icicle in the pit of her stomach, and she didn’t even know for sure what had caused the breakage.

Though it didn’t take long to figure out.

She stood on the upstairs landing, watching strange vampires swoop into the living room through the hole in the window, the moonlight casting their shadows against the wall in distorted shapes. Their eyes were red; their fangs were out. If they had ever been someone Elena had known, she didn’t recognize them now.

And that included Stefan and Damon, who were responding to the invasion with savage grace, their actions almost balletic if you ignored the spurting blood. One invader shrieked as Damon punctured her heart with a shard of wood from the window frame; another howled as Stefan leapt for his throat, jaws open wide.

“Come on!” Shoshana said suddenly, grabbing Elena’s hand and tugging her down the stairs. This brought them closer to the fray but Elena’s mind was too blank to even register this. She felt light-headed, like she was watching a scene from a movie, or a dream—like nothing could touch her.

Then something smashed into the wall just behind her, throwing up a shower of splinters, and she was awake and aware and terrified again.

Shoshana pulled her through the basement door and optimistically locked it after them. The noises were more muffled than Elena would’ve thought they’d be. “Damon can’t smell me as well in the basement,” Shoshana explained breathlessly, leading Elena further down the stairs. “I thought maybe the others couldn’t either.”

Elena nodded, taking heart from her quick thinking. She’d fought off vampires before; she could do it again. “We need stakes,” she decided, looking around urgently. They quickly found a dilapidated wooden chair and broke it up. Once armed, however, she wasn’t sure what to do.

“We should stay down here,” Shoshana said, reading the expression on her face.

Elena shook her head. “There’s so many of them—“ Was she _actually_ proposing they enter the battle? It was counter to her survival instincts, but then she thought of Stefan fighting up there and hefted the stake higher. “We should call—“

“I called Bonnie and Ric already,” Shoshana assured her and Elena blinked in surprise. How long had she been standing on that landing watching the carnage? “But since they want _me_ , I think I should stay down here,” she went on pragmatically. “And… I think you should stay down here with me.” This suggestion was clearly a bit more desperate. “We can protect each other.”

Clutching the smooth wood of the chair brace, Elena felt more capable than she had before—she envisioned actually _using_ it and her eyesight swam a little, but it was better than blind terror. Now that she knew additional help was on the way, she felt uncomfortable with the idea of staying in the basement—if Bonnie was going to fight, _she_ should be fighting, too.

“Elena, you _don’t_ have any special powers,” Shoshana reminded her bluntly, taking her arm. “Stefan would be distracted worrying about you. And—someone might hurt you!”

Before Elena could react—either for or against Shoshana’s advice—the door to the basement rattled ominously and the decision was made for them. Elena’s vaguely-conceived ‘plan’ had definitely involved an element of surprise, not opening the door to a raging vampire, so she didn’t protest when Shoshana grabbed her hand and darted down the hall towards the vervain growth room. Fortunately Stefan had not bothered to lock it and they hurried inside, squeezing past the tables of plants to put their backs to the wall with the deadly herbs forming a barrier between them and whatever came through the door.

The sounds of the battle above were now completely silenced, in this cell in the back corner of the basement. The growth lights above the flats of plants hummed. Water from the automatic irrigation system dripped into a bucket from a loose connection in the hose. A table creaked as Shoshana accidentally leaned on it; she jumped in surprise then looked sheepishly at Elena.

A noise in the hall attracted their attention and they readied themselves, facing the door with fierce expressions. A shadow passed across the barred window in the door. The lock shook slightly.

“Elena? Shoshana? Are you in here?”

The two girls almost collapsed in relief at the sound of Stefan’s voice and hurried to let him in. His clothing was torn and bloody but he appeared more or less fine as he embraced them. “This was a good place to go,” he told them, the slight quaver in his voice suggesting he was as glad to see them as they were to see him. “Bonnie and Ric just showed up, and I needed to find you…” He wasn’t sure which of the girls he was more concerned about. Regretfully he pulled back and gave them both a firm gaze. “We’re not done yet, you need to stay down here,” he began.

Elena was shaking her head before he’d finished. “No, if Bonnie’s here I want to help, I don’t want to just hide—“

“I’ll hide,” Shoshana assured him. “Stay with me, Elena! Don’t leave me alone!”

“Just stay down here, lock the door again,” Stefan ordered, in no mood to debate. He rubbed Elena’s shoulders in an apologetic gesture. “Please. Just—I need to know you’re safe.”

Elena was about to acquiesce—really, what else could she do when he looked at her that way?—when suddenly Stefan whipped around, hearing too late the attacker who whooshed up behind him. The woman—blond, thirtyish, unremarkable if not for her fangs and blood-red eyes—jabbed him soundly in the chest with a piece of wood and tossed him aside like a rag doll. Then she turned on the girls.

It wasn’t that Elena didn’t think. In fact the thoughts flashed through her mind faster even than vampire speed: Stefan was hurt, Damon and the others were out of sight, this woman clearly had evil intentions towards her and Shoshana. She knew it could all go horribly wrong and yet the desire to do _something_ was too strong to ignore. Even as Stefan and Shoshana shouted at her Elena jumped forward and plunged her stake solidly into the vampire’s heart. Well, partially, anyway—Stefan appeared from behind her and shoved it in the rest of the way. The breastbone was a rather effective barrier against a dull piece of wood, after all.

The woman turned greenish-grey and crumpled to the floor, forgotten as Elena turned to Stefan in concern. With a painful grimace he yanked the stake out of his ribs; fortunately his attacker had missed his heart. Elena could see his flesh healing around the wound already. “Are you okay?” she asked anyway, clutching his shoulders.

“Yes. Are you?” Her chin trembled but she wrapped her arms around his neck tightly.

“Yes.”

“Yay, Elena!” Shoshana cheered, with brightness that didn’t really seem to fit the situation. “You killed a bad vampire! Hooray!” She flung her arms around both of them in celebration.

“What the f—k?” Damon snapped in irritation, sticking his head through the doorway. “Save the love-in for later. The police are here.” He kicked the decomposing body aside without a second glance.

“Elena killed the bad vampire!” Shoshana informed him with delight, trying to hug him. He held her off, mindful of the gore covering his clothes even if _she_ wasn’t.

The announcement made him spare a sideways glance at Elena, however. “Really. Well, we’ll talk about that at our next session,” he decided flippantly. “Now _come on_. I don’t know what the h—l we’re going to say to Liz.”

The living room was a different kind of chaos now, with broken furniture and glass strewn everywhere, police car lights flashing outside, and officers packing desiccating corpses into body bags double-time before the non-Council-approved media could get there. Liz Forbes pounced on Damon the moment she saw him.

“It’s okay, I found them,” he assured her. “The girls were hiding in the basement.”

“That was a very good idea,” the Sheriff told them gravely. “Is anyone hurt?”

Elena wasn’t paying attention but rather scoured the yard. “Where’s Bonnie?” she wanted to know. “Bonnie!” She dodged some rescue personnel en route to the back of an ambulance, where Bonnie sat glumly as her wrist was taped by a paramedic. “Are you okay?” Elena asked, sitting down beside her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“Yeah, I just—“ She clearly didn’t want to say much with a witness present. “I just didn’t get out of the way fast enough,” she sighed with self-disgust.

A wail from the house made them both jump and they turned to see Shoshana having a hysteria fit as Damon and Liz tried to calm her down. Elena suspected it was fake; but she started to tear up as well. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” she told Bonnie moistly.

“Don’t start,” Bonnie warned her with a sniffle. “I don’t want to look like a wimp!” But in just moments the Sheriff had three sobbing teenage girls on her hands—which of course only made sense. They’d just been attacked by a hoard of creatures they allegedly had no defenses against and shouldn’t have even known existed. Liz looked profoundly uncomfortable with the situation.

Ric Saltzman appeared with a couple deputies at his back. “The last one got away in the woods,” he reported grimly. “I hit him with a vervain dart, though.”

“Good, let’s track the f----r down,” Damon suggested with vicious eagerness, trying to smother Shoshana against his chest. “Would you stop it, please?” he told her with annoyance. “Stefan!” He growled in frustration as his brother bounded off to attend to Elena.

“We’ll track him,” Liz countered, nodding towards her deputies. She seemed keen to get back to a job she understood. “You boys have done enough for one evening. We can talk more tomorrow.”

“But—“ Wisely Damon shut up as he realized this would at least get Liz out of his hair for the moment. “Thanks for your help,” he called after her instead. “Okay, they’re leaving, calm down a little,” he murmured in Shoshana’s ear.

“I c-c-can’t!” she blubbered helplessly. “The-the house is a m-mess!”

“Oh G-d,” Damon sighed, rubbing her back. “Do you know how many vampires I killed tonight? I’m not vacuuming as well.”

“I think we should take them upstairs,” Stefan suggested, trying to guide Elena and Bonnie over.

“I don’t know why I’m crying!” Elena protested in frustration, wiping furiously at her eyes.

“I’m only crying ‘cause _you’re_ crying!” Bonnie insisted to her.

“Shoshana has that effect on people,” Damon claimed. “Fine, come on, we’ll put them all in her room.”

“You both did really well tonight,” Stefan told the two girls he was escorting as they headed up the stairs.

“ _You_ didn’t do anything,” Damon accused Shoshana, though in an affectionate way.

“I thought of the basement!” she pointed out.

“Wow, brilliant. Stop crying. I’ll bring you a donut,” he tempted.

“Where would you get a donut?” Shoshana wanted to know, briefly distracted from her tears.

“There’s police everywhere,” he reminded her. “Ergo, donuts cannot be far.”

“That reminds me, I should put on some coffee for the deputies,” Stefan decided graciously, gently depositing Elena and Bonnie on Shoshana’s couch.

“Change clothes first, you look like a zombie-movie reject,” Damon advised as he left.

“I don’t think you have any donuts,” Shoshana judged with a pout, but she was at least starting to calm down, which had been his goal.

“You’re right, I lied,” he agreed easily, pulling her down onto his lap as he sat in a chair opposite the others. “I could rustle up some Johnny Walker Black for you girls, though. Although Elena is kind of a mean drunk. And Bonnie is pretty mean sober.”

Mortified by her now-drying tears, Bonnie was actually pleased to hear this assessment. “Yeah, I really kicked some a-s tonight,” she agreed proudly.

“It put a little fear in me,” Damon confirmed as Elena looked between the two of them with a slight smile. It seemed the battle had—momentarily, anyway—reminded them they were supposed to be on the same side. “But if anyone says ‘You go, girl!’ heads will roll,” he warned, putting his feet up on the coffee table with satisfaction. “ _More_ heads,” he added with a wicked grin.

“You’re so brave!” Shoshana complimented him. He accepted the praise as his due while Elena and Bonnie rolled their eyes. “Everyone’s so brave tonight!” She poked at Damon’s chest, ignoring the gore covering it. “I made the Sheriff go away,” she reminded him.

“That’s not _brave_ ,” he scoffed. “It _was_ resourceful, though,” he conceded grudgingly. “Why don’t you go take a shower so you can go to bed?”

“That’s a good idea,” she decided, hopping back up. “I’m all gross.”

Damon waited until Shoshana had picked out pajamas and headed into the bathroom, then leaned forward and fixed Bonnie and Elena with a piercing gaze. “Okay. Let’s get our story straight before the Sheriff hauls us in.”

Elena glanced back at the bathroom door, behind which the shower had started. “Why did you wait until Shoshana was gone?” she wanted to know.

“Because Shoshana will say whatever I tell her,” he dismissed. “With big, shiny, sincere eyes. You two seem to have rather more difficulty lying.” Clearly this was not a good thing in his opinion.

The two girls scoffed at his attitude. “Shoshana’s not— _dishonest_ ,” Elena insisted.

“She’s cunning,” Damon claimed. “Cunning like a serpent.” Elena rolled her eyes. “What’d you have for breakfast the day the pool was installed?” he asked by way of example.

“That… monkey thing,” Elena recalled. It seemed so long ago.

“ _What?!_ ” asked Bonnie in alarm. Because there wasn’t any ‘gourmet’ dish she would put past Shoshana.

“Oh, it was just toast, but with peanut butter and bananas and stuff,” Elena clarified.

“What did you _intend_ to have for breakfast?” Damon went on leadingly.

Elena saw his point coming and tried to avoid it. “Well, I was going to have just cereal, but—“

“Exactly,” Damon said with satisfaction. “Shoshana got you to eat what _she_ wanted you to eat.”

Bonnie and Elena did not seem to find this definitive, though talking about matters of no consequence helped to calm them down further. Damon glanced at the bedroom door and a moment later Stefan came in, looking much cleaner than he had before. “The deputies staked one more vampire in the woods,” he reported. He honestly wasn’t sure if the police gaining experience in killing vampires was a good thing or not.

“G-------t,” Damon said loudly, with obvious disappointment. Clearly he had wanted to get in on the hunt.

Stefan ignored this and turned to the girls. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?” He couldn’t stop himself from touching Elena’s shoulder.

“Bonnie’s wrist is hurt,” Elena pointed out swiftly.

“It’s nothing, just a sprain,” she insisted.

“Don’t you have some kind of witch Band-Aid you can put on it?” Damon asked obnoxiously. Apparently the détente had ended.

“Would you like some blood?” Stefan countered politely, but she declined with a glare at Damon. “You were really quite extraordinary tonight,” he added, smoothing things over.

“Thanks,” Bonnie replied. “I’ve been working on the fire spells a lot lately. The trick is to get them hot enough right away to—“

“Don’t you think Shoshana is cunning?” Damon interrupted to ask of Stefan. At first Elena thought he was just being rude, but then she realized he probably didn’t want to hear the details of Bonnie’s vampire-melting abilities.

“It kind of sneaks up on you,” Stefan replied dryly. Elena wasn’t sure if he was agreeing with his brother or not. “Why don’t you go clean up a little, and we’ll work on the cover story,” he suggested.

“Your cover stories s—k,” Damon accused.

“At least they make sense.”

“Fine, be that way,” Damon decided, standing. If Stefan had earlier looked like a zombie-movie reject, Damon looked like its star. “But I get veto power.” Stefan did not agree to this. But he didn’t think that would stop Damon from objecting later.

 

It was mid-afternoon of a bright, sunny day when Shoshana walked into the living room and found herself facing two strangers, unattended and unannounced—and something told her they were not of the ordinary human variety. Of course, being a vampire was no excuse for rudeness, and Shoshana thought it _quite_ rude to just walk into someone’s home uninvited.

“Hello, I didn’t realize Damon had visitors,” she began, assuming the best.

“ _I don’t_ ,” Damon countered, appearing from nowhere to snarl at the two women.

The older-looking one held up her hand placatingly. She was dressed in a chic, expensive business suit with tasteful jewelry—aside from the unusually large, ornate ring on her finger. “I only came here to talk,” she insisted. “Things have gotten out of hand—“

“You mean, you’re _losing_ ,” Damon interrupted shortly. “Well unlike at our last chat, I am now perfectly capable of ripping out _both_ your hearts, so why don’t we—“

“We’re leaving!” the younger-looking vampire sputtered defensively. “We’re leaving town.”

Damon’s gaze flickered between the two of them in assessment. Then he decided he didn’t care. “Then I guess this will be your _last_ stop.”

“I thought I heard—“ Elena froze as she entered the living room and saw the two new figures. “Anna. Pearl.”

Pearl took a step in Elena’s direction. “I don’t believe we’ve been—“

“Like h—l!” Damon snapped, moving to block.

“ _Wait_ ,” Shoshana commanded forcefully. She wished she was wearing something a little dressier than her favorite pink lounge suit; but this was an emergency hostess situation, and she knew how to handle those. “I don’t believe _we’ve_ been formally introduced,” she inserted, stepping between Damon and Pearl. “I’m Shoshana Salvatore, Damon’s wife. And you are?” Her tone was friendly, with an underlying layer of steel.

“We don’t need formal introductions!” Damon insisted with irritation. But both Pearl and Shoshana came from eras where there were certain rules one followed in polite society, even in the presence of those one disliked. Of course, Damon came from that era as well, but he had never been much for rules.

“My name is Pearl,” the other woman said, ignoring Damon’s outburst. “This is my daughter, Anna.” She appeared to be roughly teenaged, dressed in a casual style similar to Elena’s.

“I’m pleased to meet you,” Shoshana proclaimed, holding out her hand. There was a noticeable pause before Pearl shook it, and Damon was visibly disappointed that she wasn’t disintegrated on the spot.

“And I’ve been very eager to meet _you_ ,” Pearl noted in return.

“Okay, _now_ can we kill them?” Damon said impatiently.

“Would you care for some tea?” Shoshana asked the two women. Behind her Damon growled and she gave him a sideways glance. “Would you mind making it for us, dear?” she suggested with pointed politeness. “Elena can help you.” Elena looked slightly startled at this chore.

Damon glared between Shoshana and Pearl, frustration evident in his tense jaw and the instinctive growl in the back of his throat. Then abruptly he turned and stomped off towards the kitchen, grabbing Elena’s hand roughly as he passed her.

She knew better than to say anything while they were still in Pearl’s earshot. When they reached the kitchen Damon slammed the faucet on and Elena hoped the running water would suffice as white noise. “What’s going on?” she hissed to Damon.

“You’re making tea,” he replied nastily, shoving a kettle at her.

She started to fill the kettle with water, since this action seemed to appease him. “What about Shoshana? We can’t leave her alone with them!” She opened the nearest drawer, digging through it for some kind of wooden stick she could use as a weapon. She felt oddly clear-headed and focused and wondered briefly if things were finally back to normal after her bought of paralyzing fear.

Well, as normal as things could be when you were thinking about staking a vampire with a bamboo vegetable skewer.

Meanwhile Damon was trying to place a call on his cell phone. “Don’t be stupid,” he snapped at her, and Elena looked up in irritation. “Shoshana’s fine. It’s _you_ who can’t be left alone.” Stefan’s recorded voicemail greeting played over Damon’s phone and, frustrated, he hurled it against the wall where it smashed to pieces.

“ _You’re_ here to protect me?” Elena commented with a distinct skepticism. “You can’t even make a _phone call_.” She dropped the kettle down on the stove and snapped the burner on, then pulled out her own phone. “Say something so he doesn’t think I’m Katherine,” she requested of Damon once she had Stefan’s voicemail. She kept the phone out of his reach, though, not wanting to see it meet a similar fate to his own.

“Pearl and Anna are at the house,” Damon reported to the phone, “so get your a-s back here! You know what? Don’t bother, because I can handle them, if Shoshana would just f-----g—“

Elena ended the call. “I think he’ll get the point,” she decided. “But I don’t understand what’s going on.”

“She’s out there playing Miss Nicey-Nice Hostess,” Damon snapped, pacing furiously, “and I’m _here_ to make sure _you_ don’t get snatched by some secondary detachment. Or replaced by Katherine,” he added suddenly, stepping into her personal space. “Unless you have been already.” He sniffed her hair intently.

She shoved at him, futilely. “Back off! They could still hurt Shoshana, we have to get back out there—“

“Let me bite you,” he demanded.

Her eyes widened. “What? No!”

“Then how do I know you’re not Katherine?”

“Stop being a paranoid a-s,” Elena told him. She put her hand on his arm. “Just—calm down. Now can you really take both of them, if you had to?”

“Yes,” he answered immediately. His eyes flickered over her face, whose expression was still expectant, and suddenly he relaxed somewhat. “Okay, you’re Elena,” he judged. “You’ve got a couple zits.”

“What? Where?” Elena asked before she could stop herself. She shook her head. “Never mind. Can you take them?”

“Yes,” Damon repeated, but with less certainty. “Well, probably, so far it’s only been younger vampires but in the past—Yeah, I think so,” he decided finally, “but you and Shoshana have to get out of the way.” He hadn’t backed away from her and now he leaned down to whisper in her ear. “There’s a tunnel in the basement. It comes out in the woods near the ruins of our old house.” The kettle whistled behind her and Elena jumped. “There’s a car in a shed. Just drive. Don’t stop.” He reached around her and moved the kettle, grabbing it effortlessly with his bare hand. He grinned at her, his smile wicked. “Get the tea.”

Shoshana sat on one of the couches in the living room with Pearl opposite her, a coffee table between them. Reverting to their original training they both sat ramrod straight, perched on the edge of their cushions. Only Anna dared to slouch occasionally, until her mother gave her a look.

“Anna, I understand you’re acquainted with Elena’s brother, Jeremy,” Shoshana began cordially, but she quickly saw this was not a pleasant topic. The girl looked guilty and her mother disapproving. “Oh, my apologies, I must’ve been misinformed,” Shoshana corrected smoothly. “Tell me, do you find anything the same in Mystic Falls as you remember?” she asked of Pearl instead.

“Well, obviously a great many things have—“

“Here’s your tea,” Damon interrupted rudely. The cups rattled as he set the tray on the table between them. He seemed disappointed they were still only making genial small talk.

“Thank you, dear,” Shoshana told him sweetly. She took his hand and encouraged him to sit down beside her, with Elena on his other side. Elena couldn’t help turning a cold gaze on the other two vampires—Anna had gotten too close to Jeremy, under false pretenses, for her to feel comfortable with her, and she couldn’t forget it had been Pearl’s followers who had kidnapped and tortured Stefan, even if she hadn’t been aware of it at the time.

“Pearl was just saying that she and Anna intend to give up their interest in Mystic Falls and travel elsewhere,” Shoshana conveyed to Damon, pouring out the tea.

“Why?” he demanded suspiciously.

“I have come to agree with my daughter that the current inhabitants should not be held accountable for their ancestors’ actions,” she answered delicately. Elena glanced at Anna with some surprise.

“You mean, the part where the ancestors tried to kill you, because _you_ had been killing _them_?” Damon checked sarcastically.

Shoshana put her hand on his knee. “That was all a long time ago,” she soothed.

“I know, I was there!”

“—and there’s so much to see in the world today,” Shoshana went on, as if he hadn’t spoken. “I’m sure you want to spend time with your daughter, too,” she added to Pearl, and she and Anna gave each other warm little smiles that Elena found startlingly humanizing. “You can focus on the things that are really important. The future, not the past.” Damon’s gaze slid sideways to Shoshana.

Then it slid to the cup of tea Pearl was holding. She lifted it to her lips, sniffed at it, saw his slightly narrowed eyes, and lowered the cup to her saucer, untasted. “What’s Katherine gonna do?” he wanted to know.

Pearl discreetly put her hand on Anna’s arm to prevent her from drinking the tea, hesitating before answering his question. “Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to persuade Katherine to accompany us,” she admitted. She glanced at Elena, seemingly both intrigued and disturbed by her resemblance to the other vampire.

“Not that we _want_ her to accompany us,” Anna muttered.

Pearl gave her a sharp look. “Anna!”

“She abandoned you inside that tomb for a hundred and fifty years,” Anna persisted angrily, shoving her cup of tea back onto the tray. “And she didn’t care. She never cared about anyone but herself.”

“Well let’s give credit where credit is due,” Damon interjected snidely. “The tomb was _my_ idea. But I thought you’d like it better than burning to death.” His tone was _not_ charitable.

“There were times, in the tomb,” Pearl began slowly, setting her teacup aside, “when I would’ve welcomed death by burning instead of endless starvation.” Damon had no regrets, of course. “But now that it’s over, I’m glad to be here still,” she admitted in a lighter tone. She reached over and gripped Anna’s hand with a maternal fierceness, then turned back to Damon with a dry expression. “Should I thank you?”

“Oh, no need,” he assured her sourly.

“But what’s Katherine going to do?” Elena repeated, since no one had answered the original question. “She can’t stay here. She can’t keep hurting people, causing trouble—“

“But that’s what she does best,” Damon observed, giving Pearl a level stare. “And what you’re saying is, you’re retreating, and leaving _us_ to deal with her.”

“Oh, I assumed you’d be more than a match for her,” Pearl shot back, her acid tone echoing his own, “with your secret weapon.” She indicated Shoshana. “Unless you were hoping she’d take you back. You _were_ quite besotted with her, as I recall.”

Veins started to throb around Damon’s eyes and Elena quickly reached to take his other hand as Shoshana said innocently, “Oh my, I’m sure you didn’t mean to imply that _my husband_ was still in love with Katherine. After everything she’s done to him.”

“No, of course not,” Pearl agreed quickly. “I apologize.” After a moment Damon’s face settled back into its usual scowl. “She has only about half a dozen followers left, in an abandoned house on the edge of town.” Anna pulled up Google Maps on her iPhone and showed the location to Damon. “They’re mostly new vampires, but what they lack in finesse they make up for in cruelty.” Here she frowned a little. “She’s chosen to surround herself with people who had a violent persuasion as humans. They’re particularly vicious.”

“Huh,” Damon understated dryly. He was not impressed by claims of viciousness.

“She’s very interested in _you_ ,” Pearl went on, addressing Shoshana, “but I don’t know her specific plan.”

“And you’ve been so helpful up to this point,” Damon responded sarcastically.

“We didn’t have to tell you we were leaving,” Anna snapped at him defensively. “If we’d just disappeared you wouldn’t have figured it out for _months_ , given _your_ track record.”

Damon growled and leaned forward, and both Shoshana and Elena moved to still him. “We appreciate you letting us know,” Shoshana told Pearl. “I’m glad to know you’re not among our enemies anymore.”

“Assuming you’re telling the truth,” Damon had to add.

“Thank you,” Pearl said to Shoshana, “for the tea.” She rose and the others followed suit.

“Are you going to say good-bye to Jeremy?” Elena asked Anna impulsively. She wasn’t sure which answer she hoped for.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” Pearl answered instead, with such disapproval in her tone that Elena almost felt offended on her brother’s behalf. Anna looked like she disagreed but didn’t want to get into it again.

There was a noise at the other end of the house and Stefan suddenly appeared in the living room, obviously having rushed home expecting blood and chaos—not so much a tea party.

“Stefan,” Pearl greeted. “You’re looking well.” It was the first time she’d really seen him since 1864.

“Miss Pearl,” he returned automatically. “So are you.” Better than when he’d seen her last, limping from the tomb desiccated and brittle.

“They were just leaving,” Damon prompted rudely. “The house _and_ the town.”

“Oh?” Stefan managed to restrain his considerable interest to a polite level.

“We shouldn’t tarry,” Pearl decided. She nodded at Anna and the two of them swept towards the door. Stefan jumped to open it for them, and shut it after they left.

For a few moments no one said anything. Finally Stefan had to break the silence. “What the h—l?” he asked in confusion. Elena dropped Damon’s hand—not having realized she was still holding it—and threw her arms around Stefan, letting out a long sigh. “Are you okay?” he asked, predictably.

“I really need to destroy something right now,” Damon announced.

Shoshana squeezed him tight around the ribs. “You did _so well_ under the circumstances,” she praised. “I’m sorry I sent you to make tea, but I needed you to protect Elena.”

“I know that.”

“Did you put vervain in my tea, though?” she wanted to know. “That was a bit rude for our guests.” He declined to answer.

“Are Pearl and Anna really leaving town?” Stefan asked. “What’s Katherine doing?”

“I think they really are leaving,” Elena opined. “But Katherine is staying, with some other vampires, and Pearl doesn’t know her plan. Except that she’s interested in Shoshana.”

“Did I mention I had to make _tea_?” Damon complained. “And that I _did not_ get to kill anyone?”

“Don’t forget, your phone was a casualty,” Elena reminded him dryly.

“Oh, did you break another phone?” Shoshana asked him, as though he were a small child.

He didn’t seem to mind. “I forgot my calming imagery,” he admitted. “Fortunately Elena and her zits were there to soothe me,” he added obnoxiously.

Elena scoffed at him, exasperated by his juvenile behavior. “You’re fine, you look beautiful,” Stefan assured her unnecessarily.

“Drink a little blood, it’ll help your complexion,” Damon suggested.

Shoshana took his hand and led him towards the stairs. “Let’s go work off a little tension,” she decided meaningfully.


	20. Chapter 20

There was a sickening inevitability to how it all ended up. Maybe Stefan would’ve predicted more vampires surrounding them, with Pearl coolly negotiating for what she wanted; but in the end the details didn’t matter. Damon and Stefan still stood on one side of the field, with Shoshana and Elena restrained on the other. And in between them was Katherine.

She was making boastful little comments, smug in her own cleverness, putting on a good show for the half dozen or so vampires in her thrall who watched them. Stefan wasn’t listening; he didn’t care what she was saying. All he cared about was getting to Elena before the vampire who held her broke her neck.

He vaguely heard his brother tossing back his usual obnoxious replies; then suddenly Damon charged and the battle was on. These vampires were not as easy to destroy as the others had been, new though they were—they’d bitten Shoshana, surviving no doubt thanks to threats made against fellow captive Elena, and they were powerful. But they were also uncoordinated, and this time Stefan held no regard for them, didn’t hesitate before returning their blows. They’d thrown their lot in with Katherine and they were an imminent danger to Elena. He took his gaze off her only when absolutely necessary, trusting that Damon could handle himself at least equally well.

As Stefan got closer to his goal he saw the bruises on her face—she’d put up a fight, it seemed. But bruises would heal, he could even _make_ them heal—he could fix everything if he could just get to her. Suddenly someone slammed into him from the side, knocking him to the ground, and Stefan momentarily turned his attention to the snarling face above him. Katherine’s followers might have drunk Shoshana’s blood _once_ , but he and Damon had been living on it for weeks and knew how to use their increased strength and speed efficiently. In just a moment he ripped through unidentified flesh with his fangs, the vampire blood stale and metallic in his mouth, and flung his attacker aside, not concerned about it getting back up again.

Immediately his eyes searched for Elena again, getting his bearings after the skirmish. First he saw Shoshana standing alone, a pile of ashes at her feet. Then he saw Elena, freed from her original captor—but now held by Katherine. Stefan ran but it was like running in a dream: difficult, awkward, never fast enough. As if in slow motion he saw Elena’s head snap to the side and her body went limp, discarded to the ground like a broken toy.

Then time speeded up and he slammed into Katherine, knocking her back several yards. At once Stefan scrambled to his feet and left her, running back to Elena’s side. Shoshana had carefully turned her over on the grass and was checking for a pulse. Stefan didn’t bother with that, just slashed his wrist with a fang and pressed it against her lips, rubbing her throat.

“Come on, come on,” he whispered in frustration. If she could swallow just a few drops she could be healed—

“Stefan,” Shoshana said. “Stefan!” She grabbed his hand to still it as the blood filled Elena’s mouth and trickled down the side of her face.

She wasn’t swallowing it. Just like she wasn’t breathing and her heart wasn’t fluttering under Shoshana’s fingers.

For a long moment Stefan just stared down at Elena, his mind utterly blank. She could be taking a nap on the grass, he thought. Well, aside from the bruises and blood, which did mar the image a bit. Carefully he reached out with his thumb and wiped some of his blood off her cheek.

Then he heard Elena’s voice behind him. Not really her voice, though, a pale imitation of it, a cruel parody of a sound he would never truly hear again, and slowly he turned to see Katherine standing there, speaking to him.

She didn’t look at all like Elena. Stefan didn’t know why he ever thought she did. Right now he looked at her and saw only a thing to be destroyed, something evil and contemptible.

Her expression changed, became uncertain. Her voice died away.

He pounced.

Had she drunk Shoshana’s blood already? He didn’t know and he didn’t care. He remembered Katherine being so strong, but that was from a human perspective and obscured by a haze of compulsion. Now _he_ felt strong, at least at first; then his attacks became mechanical as he realized he didn’t really care if he killed her or she killed him. Neither outcome would bring Elena back. His hands became slower, his blows weaker.

Something crashed into him suddenly, ripping him out of Katherine’s grip, and then Damon was in his face, yelling at him, shaking him. His words didn’t register. “LOOK!” Damon finally shouted in frustration, forcibly turning Stefan around.

Elena was sitting up. Moving her hands. Talking to Shoshana.

Stefan raced to her side, knocking Damon over in his haste and skidding to an awkward stop on the grass in front of Elena. “Are you—Are you—“ _Alright_ seemed ridiculous. He wanted to touch her but was afraid he wouldn’t be able to control himself. “Is she—does she—“ Finally he dared to take her wrist. “I don’t feel a pulse. Did someone give you blood before, are you—“

Damon knocked his hand away. “Calm down,” he instructed in a put-upon tone. “Some doctor you would have been.” Delicately he took Elena’s wrist as she watched her throbbing veins in fascination. “Yes, she’s got a pulse. So she’s actually alive, and _not_ transitioning into a vampire. Which is a d—n shame.”

“Your eyes are so beautiful,” Elena said to Stefan in amazement, reaching out to touch his cheek. “So green and clear. And you smell so good,” she added, embracing him to take a deep breath.

“I—I’ve been killing vampires, and I haven’t showered for two days,” Stefan sputtered, nonetheless wrapping his arms carefully around her.

“No, no, you smell really good, like fresh-cut grass, and that aftershave you use, and pumpkin pie spice,” she insisted, sniffing him avidly. “Though—your shirt smells like Damon.”

“He’s been raiding my closet again,” Damon claimed, lolling contentedly on the grass with Shoshana in his arms. They both seemed unconcerned with the carnage around them.

“Where’s Katherine?” Stefan asked suddenly, trying to look around as he pressed Elena against him protectively. Elena was getting in his way, however, as she insisted on touching and sniffing him as though she’d never had those senses before.

“Gone,” Damon reported. “Poof. I think she finally got the point no one cares about her anymore. Might’ve hurt her feelings.” He did not sound terribly concerned. “You did such a good job,” he added to Shoshana, nuzzling her neck.

“I know,” she agreed with satisfaction. “I wasn’t sure what to do at first because they said they’d hurt Elena! But I think I came through in the end.”

“Mmm, you taste so good, too,” Elena decided, as Stefan pushed her back from a sudden kiss. Not that he minded being kissed by her—although he hadn’t brushed his teeth in two days, either, and had been biting vampires—but he had a pressing question to ask.

“How are you alive?” he wanted to know. “I didn’t think you—But you’re not transitioning, so—“

“Please,” Damon scoffed, as though this should be obvious. “Shoshana brought her back.”

Stefan looked around Elena, who was running her fingers through his hair over and over again. “What? _How?_ ”

“Well, I’m magical,” she shrugged nonchalantly. Stefan stared at her, wide-eyed.

“Just like with that stupid cat in Moscow,” Damon added nonsensically, rolling his eyes.

“You were so mean to my poor little kitten,” Shoshana chided him.

“What _the_ _h—l_ are you talking about?” Stefan demanded, his mind refusing to process what they were saying. He pulled Elena down into his arms, cradling her as if she might keel over dead again if he couldn’t figure out why she was still alive.

“Hmm, maybe he wasn’t there,” Damon suggested, as though this were of little consequence.

“I think he was with Lexi,” Shoshana remembered vaguely. “See, I had this little kitten, and Damon would kill it, and then I would have to bring it back to life,” she explained to Stefan. “Isn’t that terribly mean?”

“Cats are always plotting something,” Damon complained. “I don’t like the competition.”

“ _What?!_ ” Stefan sputtered in shock.

Damon frowned at his ignorance. “Come on, you know I don’t like cats.”

Elena had gone from fondling the fabric of Stefan’s shirt to slipping her hands underneath it. “Are we going home soon?” she asked him breathily, trying to pull herself back up across his lap. Between her intense gaze and thudding heartbeat it wasn’t difficult to figure out what was on her mind.

“There might be some temporary side effects,” Shoshana warned.

“You should’ve seen the cat,” Damon deadpanned.

“What do you—“ Stefan paused to free himself from Elena’s amorous grip, redirecting her to a mere hug. “What do you mean?”

“Eh, it’s kind of like when _you_ first drank Shoshana’s blood after a long time,” Damon decided without concern. “Things kind of go haywire for a while.”

“This place is _so beautiful_ ,” Elena announced, gazing around the trampled field littered with dismembered bodies and piles of ash. “I can see every blade of grass, feel its roots stretching down into the soil…” She gave Stefan an appraising look, then pushed him to the ground with surprising strength. “Let’s stay right here and make love in the moonlight,” she suggested, nibbling his earlobe.

“Okay,” Damon agreed readily.

“No, we need to get home,” Stefan countered, gently restraining Elena as well as his own feelings of general freaked-out-ness. Apparently it was time for him to be the responsible one again. He stood and pulled Elena up with him. “We’ll come back and burn the bodies later.” Not the most prudent plan, but he wanted to get Elena to someplace safe, where he could make sure she was really okay.

“I’m very tired,” Shoshana announced, forcing Damon to pick her up from the ground. “I’ve done a lot tonight, you know.”

The four of them headed back towards the house, Stefan now wishing they’d brought the car instead of just running. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?” he demanded of Damon, scooping Elena up to keep her more contained.

“The stars are incredible,” she opined, head tipped back to stare at the sky.

Damon shrugged unhelpfully. “What do I want her bringing back dead cats for? It’s just a party trick.” He paused to think. “Well, up until _this_ moment, anyway.”

“I didn’t know if it would work with a person!” Shoshana added, her jaw cracking with a huge yawn. “But I love Elena _so_ much, she’s my best friend ever in the world, in my whole life! So I had to try.”

“Well—thank you,” Stefan finally said, though it seemed hardly adequate.

“You’re so sweet, Shoshana,” Elena told the other girl affectionately, reaching out to touch her in the darkness. “You know, you’re so beautiful…”

“This is a lot more fun than with the cat,” Damon decided.

 

“Are you okay?” Stefan asked in a low voice, crouching down beside Elena. She was relaxing in a lounge chair by the pool, wrapped in a blanket against the unseasonably cool weather, and she’d been staring up at the sky for five solid minutes.

“The clouds just look so beautiful,” she told him, amazement in her tone. “It’s like I can see every single wisp of them.”

“It’ll go away,” Stefan assured her.

“But why would you want it to?” Damon asked from the grill. “You could feel this way every day. Every moment.”

“Yes, look what it’s done for _you_ ,” Stefan shot back dryly.

Elena rolled her head over to face Stefan. “Is this how you see the world?” she asked curiously. “How do you… stand it all?”

He smiled at her. “It takes practice,” he understated. “But for you, things should be back to normal in a day or two.” Her injuries had healed, but as his eyes roamed her face he felt he could still see them and his expression sobered. Seeing this Elena leaned forward and kissed him, determined to take advantage of her enhanced senses while she had them.

“Get a room,” Damon advised, glancing over his shoulder at them. “Or get a bigger chair so we can _all_ play.”

“Are you paying attention to what you’re doing?” Shoshana asked him sharply, placing a bowl of fruit salad on the table. “I don’t want my steak too well-done.”

“Oh, it’s fine, I know what I’m doing,” Damon scoffed, then turned down the grill slightly and checked the underside of one piece of meat.

“I brought some more ice!” Jeremy called from the kitchen. “Where should I put it?”

“I’ll show you!” Shoshana told him cheerfully. “We’re going to make our own ice cream later!”

“Really?” he remarked dubiously. The actual pool-using part of the inaugural pool party had been canceled due to the chill in the air—he wasn’t sure if ice cream would really improve matters.

They dodged around Bonnie, who appeared bearing a large Crock Pot. “It’s Gram’s baked bean recipe,” she explained, setting it on the kitchen counter and plugging it in. “It just needs to warm up a little.”

“I love that recipe,” Elena sighed as Bonnie made her way outside. Stefan abandoned his seat next to Elena so the other girl could take it.

“How do you feel?” Bonnie asked her friend in a soft voice.

“Amazing,” Elena replied, staring at her. “Your eyes are _so_ green. But they’re a different kind of green than Stefan’s. I never realized there were so many different shades of green in the world.”

Bonnie blinked at her. “Is she going to be high for much longer?” she asked Stefan in annoyance.

“I’m not high,” Elena assured her mildly.

“She is high on life, baby!” Damon insisted intrusively. “Or maybe high on death.”

“Only a couple more days, hopefully,” Stefan finally responded. There was a crunch from the grill and he glanced over to see Damon gnawing on a leftover rib bone. Bonnie grimaced at the sound. “Could you stop that, please?” Stefan requested. “It’s disconcerting.”

“It’s like a tree being chopped down,” Elena opined thoughtfully. “A big meat tree with bones holding it up.”

“And a nummy marrow center,” Damon added, as Stefan and Bonnie looked at each other dubiously. The area around the grill where Damon had been tossing the bone scraps looked a bit like the site of a ritual dismemberment. “You’ll probably like the Jello better, though,” he suggested to Stefan, as Shoshana appeared with a bowl of bright red, wobbly cubes.

Stefan bounded over to her. “Here, let me help you with that,” he said politely, whisking the bowl from her an inch above the table. He popped two of the cubes in his mouth before setting the rest down.

“Now remember what happened the last time you ate too much Jello?” Damon reminded him in a patronizing tone. “It was really gross, wasn’t it? We don’t want that to happen again, do we?”

“Especially not at my pool party,” Shoshana agreed firmly, her hands on her hips.

Stefan looked guiltily from one to the other and lowered the hand that already held three more Jello cubes. “I’ll go see if Elena wants some,” he decided reluctantly. The result of his last Jello binge had indeed not been pretty.

“Someone’s at the door,” Damon pointed out to Shoshana and she hurried off before she could become derelict in her hostess duties.

“Oh my G-d, this is incredible,” Elena declared, squeezing a Jello cube between her fingers and staring at the shimmering surface with fascination. “How does this exist? I need to learn more chemistry.”

“Put it in your mouth,” Stefan suggested, with a hint of unusual eagerness. “It’s _even_ better.”

“You have my permission to shove him in the pool,” Damon called over to Bonnie, who looked like she really didn’t want to be sitting so close to Stefan and Elena right then.

“ _Oh my G-d!_ ” Elena repeated as she took a bite of the Jello cube and held it in her mouth. Stefan nodded enthusiastically, snatching back one of the cubes he’d given her to eat himself. Bonnie finally couldn’t take it anymore and retreated from the lounge chairs, only to find that Damon was staring at the pair intently as well, leaving her with no one she considered sane enough to talk to (well, Damon had been a stretch anyway).

“I’m just not sure it should have been a potluck,” Shoshana was saying as she walked back to the patio with Jenna and Ric, who carried hamburger buns and soda. “I could’ve cooked for everyone, I _love_ cooking—“

“Honey bean,” Damon called obnoxiously from the grill, “quit fussing about that. You know you need to get more rest right now.” Bringing Elena back to life—though certainly a worthy goal—had taken considerable effort on Shoshana’s part.

Jenna had no way to realize _that_ was what he meant, of course. “Oh my G-d, are you pregnant?!” she demanded indiscreetly, eyes wide.

“What?! S—t,” Damon exclaimed as he dropped the metal tongs into the grill.

“No, I can’t become pregnant,” Shoshana replied sadly, sending the mood on a nosedive.

“What? Who’s pregnant?” asked Jeremy from the doorway, eyes automatically going to his sister and Stefan with a suspicious glint.

Stefan stood up and tried to curb the chaos. “No one’s pregnant,” he declared firmly.

“That’s good to know,” Matt commented dryly, appearing behind Jeremy at the door to the kitchen. Shoshana hurried to administer a hug to Caroline, who clutched an armload of chips and pretzels in confusion.

Meanwhile Stefan, Damon, and Jeremy were trying to extract the tongs using a variety of other implements, sometimes at the same time. “Don’t burn my steaks!” Shoshana threatened, and Stefan quickly redirected Jeremy’s attention so Damon could pluck the tongs out with his bare hand.

“Oh, you got them,” Jeremy realized, as Damon pretended to find them hot—rather lamely, Stefan thought—and set them aside.

“I think I singed my shirt,” he complained instead, examining a spot on his colorful Hawaiian shirt carefully.

Jeremy zipped his hoodie up further. “Aren’t you cold in that?” he inquired.

“Steve McQueen wore this shirt,” Damon boasted. “It holds the warmth of manliness in its fibers.” The others would no doubt think he meant the shirt was the same _style_ as one Steve McQueen had worn; but Stefan knew it was actually the same exact item of clothing. Sometimes his brother got a little starstruck. And sticky-fingered.

“Which one was Steve McQueen?” Jeremy asked with a frown. “Was he the one who did all the Westerns?”

“Oh my G-d,” Damon sputtered, disgusted at his ignorance.

Stefan jumped in. “You might be thinking of John Wayne,” he suggested helpfully. Then he had a bright idea. “We should have a classic movie fest sometime.” He paused a second. “No objection?” he asked Damon in surprise.

“Well, I think _Human Centipede_ is a classic,” he responded innocently.

“Classics of the 1960’s,” Stefan clarified.

“ _Barbarella_ ,” Damon immediately suggested, which was not what Stefan had in mind.

“Sounds fun,” Jeremy agreed, though to which idea wasn’t clear.

“Maybe the girls could have another sleepover at the same time,” Stefan added pointedly towards Damon, watching him grimace at the idea.

“Another sleepover?” Shoshana repeated with excitement, and then it was too late for Damon to protest. “How wonderful!”

“It was _my_ idea!” Damon called over his shoulder.

“I think Jenna should come, too,” Shoshana decided, looping her arm through the not-very-much-older woman’s.

Jenna looked mildly alarmed. “Oh, well, er, that’s not really necessary,” she tried to demur.

But Shoshana didn’t take _no_ for an answer on important matters like this. “The last one was _so much fun_! Now we’ll have even more fun. Maybe we can have a bonfire and roast hot dogs and make s’mores! That’s fun to do.” The wheels spun in her mind as she started calculating all the possibilities. “Ooh, and a singalong, or maybe some square dancing.”

“And Ric can come to our movie fest,” Stefan invited politely. “You’d vote for _The Great Escape_ over _Human Centipede_ , wouldn’t you?”

“Any day,” Ric assured him heartily.

“Oh no, if the girls are going to dance naked around a fire and sacrifice a goat, I think we need to be there to supervise,” Damon decided. Clearly the wheels in _his_ mind were spinning, too.

“We are not going to sacrifice a goat,” Shoshana admonished him. This seemed to leave open the question about dancing naked, which sent some nervous looks pinging around the patio.

“What do you think hot dogs are made of?” Damon claimed. “Oh look, food’s ready!” he added, before anyone could chastise him.

He started to divvy up the food as everyone chose plates—Elena sniffed her empty plate rapturously and commented on Shoshana’s choice of dishwashing detergent—but before he could finish Shoshana pulled him away, leaving the task to Stefan. Which was probably for the best, really.

“No, hot dogs are _not_ made of goats,” he assured her with some exasperation once they reached the edge of the patio. “At least, not the kosher ones.”

But she wasn’t really concerned about that. “Thanks for my pool,” she told him, reaching up to give him a kiss.

He didn’t mind _this_ sort of interruption at all. “You’re welcome,” he replied, slipping his arms around her. “I’m gonna get that four-season room built around it, so we can use it even when the weather’s bad,” he promised.

“Maybe we can use the hot tub later,” she suggested, toying with the top button of his Hawaiian shirt. He seemed to like this idea. “Ooh, maybe Stefan and Elena would join us!”

“No!” Elena called over firmly, because her plus Damon plus hot tub was not an equation she was comfortable solving. Unfortunately, no one else could hear Shoshana and Damon’s conversation, except for Stefan, and her outburst drew stares.

“I bet she’ll change her mind,” Damon whispered in Shoshana’s ear with a grin. “Now do you wanna get back to the party… or should we maybe go upstairs and have dessert early?” he added suggestively. The latter was fine with him, since he wasn’t really going to eat anyway.

“I’m still waiting for my cream to set,” Shoshana demurred regarding dessert, and Damon didn’t think there was anywhere safe he could go with that statement. “So we should go back to the party now. But…” Damon raised an eyebrow expectantly as she hesitated. “I’m glad I’m back in Mystic Falls,” she finally told him.

“You’re glad I brought you here?” he checked.

“I’m glad I’m here,” she repeated firmly. Damon grinned and decided he would take that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all for this story. Thanks for reading!
> 
> There will be two more stories in this series.


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